


Money, Sex, Love (and other bad coping mechanisms)

by Laika_the_husband (Laika_the_wife)



Category: SKAM (Norway)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe, Angst, Angst and Humor, Angst and Tragedy, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anonymous Sex, Bad Decisions, Bad Jokes, Bipolar Disorder, Blackmail, Blow Jobs, Body Shots, Dark, Depression, Drugs, Escort Service, Glory Hole, Hand Jobs, Idiot Even, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Mental Health Issues, POV Even Bech Næsheim, POV Isak Valtersen, POV Multiple, Past Relationship(s), Playboy Isak Valtersen, Power Play, Public Humiliation, Recreational Drug Use, Rentboys, Self-Harm, Smut, Strangers to Lovers, Strippers & Strip Clubs, Unreliable Narrator, Unsafe Sex, rich isak
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-12
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2020-05-03 18:52:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 76
Words: 106,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19188862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laika_the_wife/pseuds/Laika_the_husband
Summary: In short: Even is an escort and a rentboy, Isak is a rich punk. They fall in love. Mikael is involved somehow. So is Jonas.This is a lot like Signal, but dark and tragic.Keep an eye on the tags, there is likely to be more.Evak endgame!See the notes for more.





	1. Even

**Author's Note:**

> I'm using the awesome Suede song "2 of Us" as a heavy source of inspiration and a road map. The quotes in the beginning of the chapters are from the lyrics.  
> (ETA: I kind of forgot this thing somewhere in there, the story took off in its own direction and tossed the map away. Oops.)
> 
> Even lives in a shared apartment with at least Mikael, who he seems to have some history with. He is sad, empty, dissociative and fractured, and an unreliable narrator.
> 
> Isak lives in a penthouse with an inherited fortune and a lack of purpose. He hates himself more than he hates his life, and he is stuck with both.
> 
> One night Isak buys Even's time and company for a party. That's not a beginning you want to tell your future grandchildren about, but it is a beginning.
> 
> I expect there to be at least some form of self harm to come. All in all there will be some heavier issues and themes, and of course heartache. Maybe heartbreak too. I hope you like it enough to forgive me for starting yet another wip.

* * *

_Lying in my bed I think of you_  
_That song goes through my head the one we both knew_

* * *

First, the room  
or: a space of habitat  
or: Even lives here, or  
at least almost

The room isn’t big, but it has space for everything one needs. A wide bed, the sheets in a tangled mess, two pillows on the bed and one on the floor. The cheapest possible excuse of a closet in the corner, just some plastic based fabric stretched over a metal frame, closed with a zipper. A dirty mirror on the wall next to it. A trash can by the bed, a condom wrapper caught on the side. A small stool working as a night stand, holding: a pack of condoms (unopened), another pack of condoms (opened), a bottle of lube (half empty), a phone (full battery, still plugged in). A chair on the other side of the bed, working as a desk for a battered laptop and as a rack for jackets (one denim, one leather, one thick and filled with down). Under the bed? A box, full of various bottles, foil lined plastic sheets, cardboard packages, sheets of thinnest paper filled with tiny letters and refolded wrong. Between the folds? Emergency cash, enough to last for two weeks, aka. _A lesson learned._

This is a room for a simple life of a complicated person.

The person in question, lying in the bed. His head on the mattress, between the two pillows, his hand bent under his cheek, his legs folded in a way that makes him look like someone tossed a doll on the bed after growing tired of playing with it. The position is the same he took when he threw himself on the bed three hours ago.

He opens his eyes and wishes someone was there to see how dark and full of pain they are, while simultaneously knowing he would never let anyhone see that. That is how party boys end up not being invited to parties anymore, and nothing is lonelier than being left out of a party.

Speaking of parties.

Even rolls on his back and reaches for his phone. The screen is packed with notifications which he dismisses without reading them. He opens his calendar app, and to his delight there is a marking for tonight. He double checks the date from the phone’s clock to make sure. Yes. Today. In two hours. Better get going, then.

Even moves his feet on the floor and pushes himself up on them. He grabs a towel with him and heads out of the room.

“Is the shower vacant?”

No response. Maybe nobody’s home. That’s a rare occurance in this apartment, Even thinks, then he remembers that somebody is home right now. Even is, himself. Right, right. He decides to check anyway, he walks into the common room and finds only empty cans and bottles on every available surface. So, at least Mik has been home recently. Even tries a liquid stain on the coffee table with his fingers and deducts that it’s about ten hours old. So, from last night. The party must have been over by the time Even dragged himself in through the front door.

Even stops behind Mikael’s room’s door and knocks on it.

“Mik? Mickey?”

No response. Either Mik’s not home or he’s passed out. Or listening to his music with earphones. Even stands there for a moment, imagining Mikael’s dainty body laid down in his bed. In his underwear, maybe a top on too, the spaghetti strap slipped from his shoulder. That’s a visual for the shower, thank you roomie. Sometimes people wonder how it is possible for Even to live with a pretty little thing like Mikael and still manage to see the outside world every now and then, but for some reason Even and Mikael never hook up together.

 _For some reason._ Hah.

Even escapes the door before it has a chance to suddenly open. He slips into the bathroom and locks the door behind him. Me time. The bathtub seems clean enough, but Even runs his fingers along the bottom and sides to make sure. Yup, grime free. Good. Even is not in the mood for scrubbing. He decides to run himself a bath. His legs could use a shave, and he’s not in the mood for standing up, either. He’s going to be doing plenty of that at tonight’s gig.

Even doesn’t hate doing high society escort gigs, it’s just that he hates doing them. The stuck up events where you stand around all night in your tuxedo, surrounded by bored rich people. If Even was rich, he would know how to have fun. He would never be bored. He would be a proper playboy, with a mansion and everything. Helicopter loads of party hungry chicks and boys would be flown to his “gatherings” and the music would be so loud that the Martians would complain.

There would be so much cocaine that Columbia would build an embassy on the back yard.

When the water is high enough Even steps out of his slacks and into the tub. It is nice and warm, and he lowers himself down carefully. He is so tall that he does not simply enter a bathtub, there is some careful bending, folding and positioning involved, but finally he can tilt his head back to rest on the edge of the tub and relax.

As if he hasn’t been relaxing for three hours straight already.

As if that can be called relaxing.

Even takes a breath and slides his body forward along the tub, pulling his face under water. He lays there, his eyes open, listening to the magnificent noise of the water cascading into the tub from the tap. It sounds like a waterfall, and it technically is one, and if Even loves something it’s technicalities.

He sits up again, slowly. He turns off the water and leans back, closing his eyes. Four hour booking tonight. One hour would be the dinner, then three hours of cocktails and standing around and conversing. He needs to erase his mind before that. Cleanse the palate, so to speak. Remove the image of Mikael in his boyshort panties and spaghetti strap top dancing on the coffee table high as a kite from his head.

Even presses his palm on his stomach and slides it down. By the time he reaches his thigh he is hard. He grabs his dick firmly but gently and touches it, letting his fingers run along the shaft, in quick strokes. He imagines Mikael on the coffee table. On his knees on the floor, between someone else’s knees, his silky black hair swaying as his head bops up and down in the lucky bastard’s lap. On his back on the bed, for some reason he always imagines Mikael doing it missionary style, his slender leg up on the other guy’s shoulder, both legs if he’s feeling naughty. In Even’s fantasies (if they can be called fantasies, more like pastime and background noise) Mikael is silent like a little mouse, making only a random tiny squeak, and though Even has never made it so far that Mikael could come, he imagines that would be quiet too. A silent _ah!_ escaping his cracked lips, disappearing immediately into the night.

Even makes a sound when he comes too, but more like a huff. He lets go of his dick, panting softly, his wet hair stuck to his forehead. He swirls the water slowly, mixing his jizz into the water. Mik says it’s good for the skin, because of the high zinc content. Even is just too lazy to do anything about it, and the lump floating around is kind of icky, so he stirs it away. There’s nothing wrong with his skin anyway.

After soaking in the water until it’s turned cool Even stands up and pulls the plug. He gives himself a quick rinse under the shower and realizes he forgot to shave his legs. He runs his hand up and down his leg and decides it will do for tonight. This is an escort gig, nothing naughty, all boring from the beginning to the end. No need to be porcelain smooth.

Even leaves the slacks on the floor and walks to his room with the towel wrapped around his waist. He blow dried his hair so it’s now extra bouncy. The customer asked for _civilized flamboyance_ and though Even isn’t quite sure what that means, extra bouncy hair sounds like it fits the bill.

He takes his work underwear from the plastic bag also known as his underwear drawer hanging on the door knob and slips it on. His tuxedo is in the stupid zipper closet, as is his crisp white button down shirt. It’s probably also civilized flamboyance to wear a tuxedo with a black bow tie with its very edges dipped in silver coloured clitter. Even’s going to put his money on that tonight and hope for the best.

Even takes his cologne - Envy by Gucci, the real stuff, a gift from a regular - and sprays a little bit in the air. Then he walks through the cloud. A cologne is your most important underwear, Even thinks he remembers some stuck up rich person has once said, knowing perfectly well that most people can’t afford shit they can’t pronounce. Even takes a deep breath to calm himself down, and the repetitive ritual of buttoning up his shirt helps in that tremendously.

When Even is ready he takes a look in the mirror to make sure everything is as it should be. He checks the time. Forty five minutes for a half hour walk. Time to go. Even packs his lacquered shoes in his messenger bag and pulls his winter boots on. It’s been snowing all day and he has spent way too much time shining his party shoes to let them be stained by a mush of sand, snow and salt. He folds the cuffs of his pants into the boots as well, zips up his down jacket and heads out into the winter night.


	2. Isak

* * *

_In each line lies another line full of sacred sound  
But you're outside where the companies dream and the money goes round_

* * *

 

Pretty much anyone would be willing to trade places with Isak Valtersen. The majority of them would probably give their arm and leg for the opportunity, too. To become someone who hasn’t worked a day in his life and still has more money than he can spend in one lifetime. Funds and stocks not included. Isak’s solid cash fortune would last him for the rest of his days, even with copious partying and a life of luxury.

He should know. He does plenty of both. Tonight is no exception, he’s attending - well, actually throwing, the guests just aren’t aware of it - a party where the dining will be fine and the conversations will be tedious and pretenteous.

_ Until. _

Isak checks the time. His latest purchase should be here in ten minutes. They would have enough time to make the arrangements and reach the venue in time. Of course, provided that he was dealing with an actual professional.

No, take that back. A proper, professional escort would not agree on what Isak is about to ask this one. He scouted for this individual carefully. He looked for someone who has been on the listings of a prestiged escort service and then laid off. So, someone who looks and knows how to act the part, but who is willing to bend the rules.

There just is something about rules that are asking Isak to bend them.

God, he likes power. Real, proper, actual power. Not the power of money, or the influence of a name, those can be acquired so easily. Isak did nothing to gain them. He means actual power over people in the same room with him, his peers, brought forth by his command. His presence. Charisma. He has seen people grovel at his feet all his life, and he has become quite good at telling the difference between influence and power.

Isak takes a deep breath. He fills his lungs up to make his shoulders broader. His presence more commanding. He watches his image in the window that covers the whole wall and crabs his wrist behind his back. He looks great. He looks sharp. He looks the part.

The buzzer rings. Isak walks to the intercom and presses the button.

“Yes?”

“Your guest has arrived, mister Valtersen.”

Isak checks the time. Three minutes early. Acceptable. Not ideal, but acceptable. At least he’s not tardy.

“Send him up.”

Isak walks back to the window. The elevator enters directly into the penthouse, there is no need for him to go about opening doors. Isak looks over the city, his hands behind his back, his shoulders broad, his posture impeccable. He waits. It’s a long ride up here.

The elevator arrives. The doors open. Isak can see the comer in the window. He’s tall. His posture is nice. He looks the part, as well, at least judged by the fuzzy reflection.

“Uh. Evening? Mister Valtersen?”

Ah. He hesitates? He knows he doesn’t belong here. A slight smile tugs at Isak’s lips. This is going to be an interesting night.

“Present”, Isak says, firmly. He doesn’t turn around yet. He wants to see how his guest will react to it. He keeps watching his reflection. He sees him walk further into the penthouse. Sneak a little lookaround. Isak is so accustomed to the luxury surrounding him that he only notices it when someone else has trouble taking it all in.

“Uh. I’m Even. Your escort for tonight.”

“I’m aware of your identity.”

Even moves closer again. It’s remarkable, how at the same time he looks like he belongs here and yet so out of place. He’s perfect for tonight.

“So. Where do you want me?”

Isak laughs, shortly, at the banality of Even’s question. And he finally turns around. He has a slightly cocky smile on his lips, accompanied by a snide remark, but they both tumble off when Isak sees his escort’s face properly for the first time.

He is absolutely flawless. No. That’s the wrong word. He has flaws, Isak can spot them immediately, but he has so much more going for him that the imperfections only emphasize that beauty. Isak has never had to ask for anything in his life, but now he has come face to face with something he can’t have.

He doesn’t like that one bit.

Isak pulls himself back together. He raises his upper lip a bit, and he runs his eyes along Even up and down, from his hair to his shoes, and stops at the shoes.

“What the fuck is that supposed to be?”

Even looks down and chuckles.

“Oh, sorry. I walked here. I have my proper shoes in my bag.”

Isak frowns. This Even is far more endearing than he would like. That will not do.

“I doubt you own  _ proper _ shoes. But show me what you have.”

If Even is fased by Isak’s remark he hides it well. He puts his bag on the floor and takes out a pair of actually quite fine looking shoes. Civilized flamboyance, just like his cutesy little bow tie and that ridiculous hair.

“They will do. Put them on.”

“Is there someplace I can leave my boots?”

“Your bag seems roomy enough.”

Even isn’t happy about putting the wet boots in his bag, but he does so. Isak can only hope he has something in there that water can ruin. He waits until Even has put on his so called proper shoes and then nods.

“Adequate. Now, before we go, let’s get the business out of the way.”

“Certainly, sir.”

Ohhhhh. Well played, rentboy. Well played.

“This way.” Isak swallows the ‘please’ from the end just in time, waves his hand and walks to his desk. He has a print copy of the contract Even has provided him earlier, and he has signed it beforehand. He drops the pen just as Even is about to grab it, and doesn’t apologize.

When Even has picked up the pen and signed the contract Isak presses his fingertips on it.

“I will give you ten grand if you follow my every order tonight.”

“Excuse me?”

Isak looks in Even’s eyes. They make something stir inside him, and that has to stop.

“Ten thousand kroner. Cash.” Isak takes the roll of bills from his breast pocket and places it on the table. “You follow my every order to precision during the party, and this is yours when we return.”

Isak knows Even is only pretending to consider. He noticed how worn out Even’s bag is. He can tell Even hasn’t bought a brand new pair of socks for tonight.

“What kind of orders, sir?”

Isak smiles.

“That is none of your concern, because if you wish to get this reward, you will need to follow any kind of order.”

Even is still pretending. Isak can see the way Even looks at the wad of cash, all that money, placed carelessly on a desk like a flyer or a used envelope. Ten grand, thrown around like it means nothing, and to Isak Valtersen that is correct. This is his pocket change. Something he might find in the ashtray of his car.

Completely meaningless. Like everything else that money can buy, because if money can buy it, that means Isak can have it without any problems.

This rentboy is no exception to that rule. He reaches his hand towards the cash, and Isak places his own hand on top of it.  _ Mine. _ For now.

“Good. The car is waiting for us downstairs. You can leave your bag here with your phone.”

Even doesn’t argue. He turns his phone off and puts it in the bag, then places the bag on the floor by the desk. Directly beneath the rolled up bills.


	3. Even

* * *

_ Lying in my bed  
_ _ Watching my mistakes  _

* * *

 

Five hours later Even opens the front door and collapses into the apartment. Hello honeys, he is home. Someone is in the kitchen. The air smells like coffee, and oh yes please, Even would like some. He drags himself into the kitchen and sees Eskild, home from his late shift. Damn. He expected Mikael.

“Shouldn’t you be on a stage somewhere right now, taking your clothes off for money?”

Eskild turns to look at Even over his shoulder. He looks tired and worn out. Like one would expect from a geriatric nurse after a late night shift.

“Sprained my fucking ankle at work. I’m going to be late with the rent.”

Normally Even would freak out. He would yell at Eskild and make it clear to him that neither him or Mikael have money to throw around carelessly. But tonight is a special night, and Even has ten thousand (10 000, one thousand times ten) kroner in his bag.

“You’ll owe me one for that. Not just the money, but a favour.”

Eskild rolls his eyes.

“You owe me at least twelve favours.”

“Add a cup of coffee to that list”, Even sighs and takes a mug from the cupboard. “Is Mik home?”

“Yeah. Asleep. He’s got an exam tomorrow, he’s been cramming all day in his room.”

Ah. That’s why he didn’t hear Even earlier. Mikael always wore headphones when he was studying.

“I’m impressed he had the stamina to study after the party.”

“Which you are cleaning up, by the way.”

“Me?! Why me?”

“Because I did it last time. And the time before that. And the time  _ you _ had a party you didn’t clean up.”

Even sighs, deep and loud, and collapses on a chair with his coffee.

“You don’t even know what I have gone through tonight.”

“Judging by your attire, some black tie event. I’m so, so sorry that you had to be bored for a couple of hours. Should I start a movement for you?”

Even closed his eyes for a moment. The last couple of hours have sure been many things, but boring is definitely not one of them.

“Fuck you too.” Even does his best to keep his voice from cracking. He’s so fragile right now, he’s seconds away from ugly crying in front of the most annoying roomie in the world. Sure, Eskild is a blessing when it came to housekeeping and stocking the kitchen with something else than vodka (cheap) and beer (cheaper, and Even almost does the math to see how many cases his ten grand could buy, and would that amount fit in their apartment), but he has this really bad holier-than-thou attitude problem.

It is most likely just Even’s imagination. But it doesn’t matter. Eskild is an arrogant bastard, that’s that.

Though he is nothing,  _ nothing _ compared to the man Even just spent a few hours with.

Even closes his eyes again. Or presses them tighter, he doesn’t know, he remembers how their kitchen looks like and he sure as hell remembers how judgemental!Eskild looks like.

Wait, how long has he been quiet now? Is Eskild still in here with him? Even tries to listen, but he can’t tell has Eskild left the kitchen or is he simply sitting by the table. Or standing still, leaning on the edge of the sink.

Watching him. Judging him. How dare he, how dare he look down at Even like that? Just like the rich bitches and bastards in that stupid party, they all knew who Even was. What Even was. They all knew and saw how pathetic he was.

They were all right. He is pathetic.

Even stands up without opening his eyes and staggers out of the kitchen, into his room. He hears Eskild say something but can’t tell for sure is his voice coming from the common room or the kitchen, and quite frankly he doesn’t care. He slams the door shut and then realizes what Eskild just said.

Don’t wake up Mikael.

Well. What’s done is done. A closed door can be opened, but never again become unclosed.

Even presses his ear against the wall and listens. He can’t hear anything. Mikael didn’t wake up. Good. Party boys need their sleep so they don’t fall asleep in lecture halls at the mathematics department. Mikael insists he hasn’t blown his professors to pass the classes, and Even really wants to believe him.

He falls down on the bed. The game is over and the doll is unnecessary. Even feels his whole body kind of deflate. He is still in his tuxedo, and the bow tie is uncomfortable in this position, but that’s not the first uncomfortable position he has been in tonight.

The worst part, Even thinks, was mister Valtersen’s laugh. It had absolutely no joy in it. It was cold, and made of metal, and it had sharp teeth that bit down on Even’s flesh. Even strokes on his arm with his fingertips, searching for teethmarks.

He reaches under the leftmost pillow and takes his notebook from under it. He flips it open where he has left the pen and takes the pen in his hand. He draws a one, half the page high, and adds five zeros behind it.

A second later he runs out of his room. His door swings open and hits Mikael’s door with a bang, but he doesn’t really register it. He dashes for his bag and pulls it against his chest at the same moment Eskild barges out of his room.

“What the fuck?!”

Even hugs his bag tighter. He mutters an apology. Eskild just glares at him for a second, rolls his eyes and retreats back in his room. Even stands by the pile of shoes, hugging his bag, and hears Mikael’s door open.

“Evy?”

Even closes his eyes and breathes in through his nose. Breathe in the universe. Breathe in the positive energy of everything that’s alive. The universe wishes well for everything it holds.

Even is holding ten thousand kroner. In cash. He is a man who knows exactly what he is worth, and as Mikael repeats his question but closer this time Even turns to look at him.

The spaghetti strap of his black top has slipped from his shoulder. His boyshorts match the top. His hair is a perfect mess and he looks sleepy, and he has an exam tomorrow, and he is worth so, so much more than Even could ever wish to.

“It’s cool. Go to bed, I’ll keep it quiet.”

Mikael yawns, and nods, and turns around. He goes back in his room, and Even returns into his own. He falls on his side on the bed, still hugging his bag, and opens it. He takes the money out and holds it in his hand. It’s surprisingly heavy. They seem to be hundred kroner bills, so there should a hundred of them. That’s a lot of paper.

Even pulls the rubber band off and slips it on his wrist. It’s a tight fit. That’s good. It helps him keep himself grounded in the here and now. He pushes the bag on the floor and rolls over on his back. He lifts his hands up, pushing his arms as long as he can, and divides the stack in two. He lets go.

He hoped it would look like in the movies. Making it rain. But the stacks just slap down on his chest, and fall apart a bit, but mostly they hold together. Even sighs and gathers the piles into one neat stack again. He places it on his face, covering his eyes. He sits up, too fast, and digs his phone out of the bag.

It is a pity Even has to stage a reconstruction. But he will be the only one who will ever know. He takes one of the bills and positions himself carefully on the bed. He turns the front camera on and raises the phone above himself. Then he places the money on his eyes and does his best indifferent, mildly suffering open mouth pouty lips face, and takes a picture.

He gets it with the first shot. It’s perfect. He digs under the pillow again and takes the mini photo printer. It turns on, yessss. He wasn’t sure if it has enough battery, but it seems to. Even sends the picture to the device as quickly as he can, just in case, and moments later he is holding a small polaroid of himself masked with money.

Even shoves all of the cash inside a pillowcase and slips the notebook and the printer under the pillow. He keeps the photo in his hand. He looks at it, carefully, taking in every little detail. It’s a perfect metaphor for tonight. He is a fucking genius.


	4. Isak

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: self harm, references to conversion therapy

* * *

_I listen to the band they said that it could be the 2 of us  
_

* * *

  
Isak settles more comfortably in his bed. He really likes this mattress. It’s been hand made from scracth, filled with finest wools and horsehair and hand picked cotton, all by adults with proper working conditions. It cost a metric fuckton of money, Isak supposes. He never checks the price on anything because he has no need to.

He does know what he paid for last night’s fun. A wry smile drags itself on his lips as he remembers how astounded his company had been by his plus one. Sure, it is almost 2020, _the future,_ but Isak invited a certain kind of crowd to this particular party. The kind that, when left alone, would not be shy to state their opinion on abominations.

So, basically, Isak’s crowd. It was a wonderful, terrible night. Illuminating, oh yes, just like Isak hoped it would be. Isak runs his fingers along the cool, silky smoothness of his sheets and closes his eyes. It was a test. He failed it, spectacularly, but at least now he knows where he stands.

It was easy to convince the guests that it was just a prank. That Isak was simply bored, once again, and decided to get himself a new toy. A real life sexual deviant. In gorgeous, delicious flesh. When the guests noticed the gay was in Isak’s leash they unleashed themselves.

_Do not make a fool of me in front of them. Anyone asks you anything, you provide an answer. I don’t care if it’s truthful, but it must be unsarcastic._

Isak threw the poor bastard to the wolves last night. And then he paid very, very close attention. He would lie if he’d say he had no idea how nasty those people could be, but they sure delivered. Isak spent the whole night watching them tear the poor guy apart.

No, that’s a lie. He didn’t just watch. He cheered them on. He encouraged them.

_Kneel. On your hands and knees, like a dog._

Isak turns on his stomach and buries his face between the pillows. They’re always cool against your face, some high tech space age fabric. Isak lives a life where nothing, absolutely nothing, bothers him. He can just glide through everything, without even noticing.

Almost everything.

_Hey, Maddy, guess what I had to pay him to get him do everything I tell him to. No, guess. Hahah, fuck no. Less. Nope, less. Way, way less, you’re not even trying. Give up? Okay. Ten grand. I know, right?! He probably enjoys it. I’m sure I overpaid him._

Now the party is over. Isak has learned what he wanted to learn. He can never, not ever, let these people know. No matter how much they would pretend to be okay with it in his face. They would talk behind his back. When they thought nobody would disagree with them. Among their own kind.

Isak can’t breathe, muffled by the pillows. He turns on his back and glares at the ceiling. Maybe he should just do something. Cocaine. Pills. Something to not take the edge off but to _give_ some edge. Something to drag along his arm, like an uneven blade. He is way too cowardly to actually do anything like that. He specializes in lashes that don’t leave visible marks.

The rentboy knows that now.

Fucking pretty face bitch with his perfect, ridiculous hair.

Isak can’t get him out of his head. Not the payday waiting, humble and squirming, worthless piece of trash that crawled over the floors last night, but the guy Isak saw when he turned around for the first time. He’s trash. He is carbage. Worthless. No, he’s worth ten grand, and that is the same as nothing in Isak’s world. Pocket lint.

If the rentboy’s worth nothing, why can’t Isak stop thinking about him?

He knows why. He knows exactly why, and he has locked that reason very carefully behind several locks and lost the keys just to make sure he doesn’t open them. Isak messed up royally when he got the idea and executed it. Now he has an issue he most likely can’t buy his way out of.

But there is a way out. He knows it. He has taken it before, and he will take it again. What he now calls, bitterly, “the Jonas incident” sure taught him a lot. About himself and what he is capable of, if he puts his mind to it. All it takes is discipline.

Still, in his head, in his foolish, reckless head, Isak takes the locked box in his hands and gives it a little rattle. Just to see if the thing inside it is still alive. It is, it stirs and scratches at the walls around it. Isak throws the box off his hands and his eyes snap open.

“Fucking fucking fuck!”

Okay. It’s not that bad yet. Nothing that can’t be fixed hasn’t happened yet.

Shit. That’s a dangerous word, Isak! _Yet._ It holds a possibility, an option, and he knows perfectly well that there aren’t any options. The box stays closed, forever. Rentboys get their money and they leave, and they leave for good, and they spend the money on whatever rentboys find valuable and forget about where that money came from. Life goes on.

That bowtie was so infuriatingly cutesy.

Isak needs a shower. A cold one. He pulls himself up from his super nice bed and drags his ass to the bathroom. It’s more like a spa, really. It has a hot tub, and a huge bath tub, and a therapy pool, a steam shower, a rain shower, a massaging shower and a regular shower. What can he say, he likes bathing, and he loves variety. Today he opts for the rain shower. It feels appropriately melodramatic.

The water is so cold the drops sting as they touch his skin. Isak closes his eyes and focuses on his breathing exercises. He focuses on emptying his mind. Clearing his thoughts. Out with the impurities, in with healing energy.

 _ragged breaths, gasping_ __  
_through the pain. the numbing_ __  
_stench of the incense,_ __  
_the burning sensation in his throat and lungs._  
_breathe in the divine, boy._

Isak opens his eyes and can almost hear the glass wall he tried to build shatter to pieces. He is so cold, his teeth are clattering, but he stays put. The cold feels pure. It feels overwhelming. Isak wants to feel nothing but cold, and then nothing but numb, and he knows this is a huge step backward but he doesn’t care. He’ll indulge himself with his pain tonight, then he will get a good night’s sleep and move on tomorrow morning.

For tonight, he wants that rentboy more than anything he can buy.


	5. Even

* * *

_ The snow might fall and write the lines on the silent page _

* * *

Even is still asleep when he hears someone enter his room in great hurry. Something slaps against his face, something smooth and a bit cool, and then a living body bounces on his bed half on top of him. Even recognises the smell first. It’s Mikael. But what the fuck did he get on his face?

Even tries to open his eyes but it’s still dark. He runs his fingers over his face and grabs the magazine Mikael threw at him. He pulls it off his face and sees Mikael’s eyes really, really close to him. They’re sparkling with keen interest.

“What is he like?”

“What? What time is it?”

Mikael grins.

“Half past seven. I have to leave for class in an hour. I was having breakfast and reading this and then I remembered what you told me the other night.”

Mikael grabs the magazine and flips it through as he’s speaking. Even really, really isn’t awake yet. He tries to remember this other night Mikael just mentioned, but he’s drawing a blank. Based on that he knows which night it is, but he has little to no recollection of it. Even yawns, and tries to turn on his side in a way that would push Mikael out of his bed, but Mik just lands beside him and shoves the magazine in his face.

“IT’S HIM! Isn’t it?”

Even can’t see anything with the paper covering his eyes. (He remembers the money he had over his eyes the other night, now stashed in the pillow, he likes to rest his head on it at night.) He doesn’t know why, but he’s getting a feeling he knows what Mikael is talking about.

“Enough with the swatting already! Jesus! I’m not some bad dog!”

“Well you  _ have _ peed on the floor.”

“I was sleepwalking, I dreamt I was in the bathroom!”

“That’s what you keep telling us. Now stop distracting me and wake up already!”

Even isn’t feeling like waking up at all. But Mikael will likely swat him again if he doesn’t. So, he opens his eyes (so much light, ow) and takes a look at the magazine.

_ Millionaire playboy at it again _

Even glances through the story. Apparently Oslo’s favourite love-to-hate man, Isak Valtersen, had wanted to enjoy his movie in private and bought the entire theatre, kicked everyone out and after the show sold the theatre back to the original owners for half the money he had paid for it. Under the story is a picture of the man himself, with his cocky half grin on his lips. He isn’t looking at the camera, because he doesn’t need to. He’s a man to be seen.

Mikael taps his finger on mister Valtersen’s face.

“This is him. The john you talked about that night, the rich one, the one who had enough money to throw around without thinking about it, the annoyingly hot one.”

_ Annoyingly hot? _

That does sound like something Even might describe that man with.

“Don’t you have a class?”

“I knew it! The second I saw this I knew it!” Mikael sounds pleased with himself. He lays half on top of Even, poking on his shoulder. “Tell me immediately what he’s like!”

Even sighs. He isn’t one to kiss and tell, in any sense. He already said too much, apparently, drunk out of his mind yet again.

“He’s. He knows his worth.”

It’s way too early for any discussion. Especially one like this. Even yawns, loud and long, to let Mikael know that.

“Details! I’m in no hurry yet.” Mikael slides off Even and lands his head on the pillow. Then he frowns and feels around, and Even realizes too late (he’s still half asleep, damn it!) that Mikael slips his hand inside the pillow case.

When he pulls out his hand he’s holding like a grand and a half of cash. And frowning.

“What the --”

Even doesn’t try to stop him. He decides to focus his energy on coming up with what he’s going to say. He just watches Mikael dig out all the money from the pillow case. He’s watching keenly, ready to snatch his notebook away from Mikael the second he grabs it. But Mikael doesn’t do that. He remembers it’s private.

“Even, this is like ten thousand kroner.”

“Eight thousand six hundred, math major.”

Mikael looks at him, his eyes wide and mouth round. Fuck he looks cute.

“Where did this come from?” Before Even has the chance to make up something Mikael figures it out himself. He gasps, then looks at the magazine, then at Even again. “What did you do?”

He looks so worried. He looks so pretty. He looks a bit mad, and right now he’s mad at Even but that can be changed easily. Even bites his lip and looks away.

“Whatever I was told to.”

Mikael gasps again. He presses his slender body just a bit closer against Even. It feels good, to be cared about like this.

“It was horrible. I have never been more humiliated in my life.”

Mikael wraps his arm and leg around Even, and rests his head on Even’s shoulder.

“Tell me everything.”

Even shifts a bit.

“You have a class to get to.”

“It doesn’t matter. Tell me.”

Even almost smiles, but catches himself in time. It’s just so nice to be taken care of for a change.

“He was nasty from the very beginning. Treated me like shit. But he paid me so well, and we need the rent money.” Talking about the rent makes Even remember something. He shivers. “He called me a rentboy.”

Mikael shakes his head in shock. His silky hair tickles on Even’s neck.

“That’s so spiteful.”

“He’s a spiteful man. For someone who bought me he sure didn’t like me.”

“Shut it. He didn’t buy you, you sold him your services.”

Even sighs. He feels his chest fill with sweet, sweet melancholy.

“With him it didn’t feel like that at all. I was his property, and he treated me accordingly.”

Mikael is silent for a moment. He’s playing with Even’s hair, and the cash on the pillow next to Even’s head. The paper has a very nice sound, it sounds like security.

“The thing with people who are rich like that”, Mikael says softly, “is that they don’t need to be too careful with their property. Do they?”

Even shakes his head and makes a little sad sound. Mikael hugs him tighter.

“Just tell me.”

“He made me crawl on my hands and knees. He treated me like dirt. He pimped me to his guests.” Even rubs his mouth absentmindedly. Mikael shivers.

“Why did you let him do that?”

Even grabs a handful of money and lets it fall on Mikael like leaves. He has been practicing on this and got the hang of it.

“Ten grand.”

“Eight thousand six hundred.”

“It was ten before the party where I told you too much about a customer.”

Mikael raises himself on his elbow and looks at Even. He looks frightened.

“Even, you can’t have all this cash just laying around in a pillow. This is a party house.”

“I like to have it with me. It feels good. It’s so substantial.”

“It is a huge risk! What if someone finds it and wants it and stabs you or something?”

Even isn’t happy about the turn their conversation has taken. From sympathy to finger pointing.

“Nobody will find it.”

“I found it!”

Mikael has a point. Fuck.

“You invaded my bed.”

“Your bed isn’t exactly Fort Knox.”

Mikael has a point, again. How rude.

“Speak for yourself, frat boy.”

Okay that was uncalled for. Mikael seems to think so too. He looks at Even and pushes himself off the bed. He retreats to the door.

“I’ll be late for class. Get rid of that fucking cash. Take it to the bank, today.”

Even turns on his side, his back to the door.

“Yes, mom.”

Mikael doesn’t say anything anymore. He just closes Even’s door, and the apartment door soon after. When Even opens his eyes he sees the magazine on the floor. He reaches down to take it.


	6. Isak

* * *

_but you're outside making permanent love to the nuclear age_

* * *

Isak taps on the headline and glances through the newspiece. The ratings have skyrocketed, when everyone want to see the movie Isak Valtersen wanted to see hard enough to buy the entire theater showing it. The theaters run four to six screenings a day, for over a week in a row now, for packed seats. Isak takes a screenshot and sends it, with a note:  _ You’re welcome. _

Isak doesn’t bother to read the reply message he receives less than a minute later. He knows what it says. They both know that this isn’t a favour, this is a service, and the price will follow later. Isak has yet to decide what the price would be, so there is no need to read the text. Besides, he has more interesting things to read. He has barely started the book on animal movement applied to robots, but he is eager to binge it.

The intercom interrupts him.

“Mister Valtersen? Are you expecting someone?”

Isak raises his eyes from the book and glares at his phone, but the poor device can’t tell him anything. He opens the intercom app and presses on the screen.

“No.” In the spur of a moment he adds something he knows he will regret the second the words leave his lips. “What is it?”

“Just tell him it’s me for fuck’s sake”, Isak can hear from the background. He drops his book. What can that man possibly want? Isak tries to make out if his speaking is slurred or not, but he can’t tell for sure.

“A rather persistant young man, sir. He claims to know you.”

Isak can hear the detest in the doorman’s voice. He licks his lips quickly, annoyed.

“I’m reading.”

“You can read later! Come on Issy, it’s me!”

“Sir, shall I call the police?”

Isak sighs.

“Send him up.”

“Sir? Are you sure?”

“None of your business. Send him up.”

“Yes, sir.”

While the elevator climbs up here Isak has time to collect the book from the floor and put it on the shelf. He has time to take out two glasses and pour them half full of scotch. He has time to make sure his gun is still in its compartment under his desk. He knows he can never use it, but its mere presence feels soothing.

Isak would never have guessed he would check on his gun when this man comes for a visit.

The elevator stops. The doors slide open. Isak takes the glasses in his hands and turns around. He hopes that the scotch will distract his guest from hugging him.

He is correct. Jonas staggers towards him with his arms wide, but then he sees the amber liquid and takes the glass in his both hands. Isak gives it to him, and steps a bit back.

“Good evening, Jonas. You look --” Isak can’t say  _ well _ because it would be such a blatant lie. “-- lively.”

Jonas drinks the scotch in two greedy gulps. Isak hands his glass over to him as well. He isn’t feeling thirsty right now, at least not like that.

“You look better than ever, Issy.”

“Isak. Please.” Jonas just shrugs. Isak doesn’t like this conversation one bit. He doesn’t like the way Jonas turns him, the king of Oslo, into an insecure teenage boy just by being in the same room. “What do you want?”

“Why do you always assume people want something?”

It is Isak’s turn to shrug.

“Because they always do.”

“Touché, my friend.” Jonas grins and swaggers to the armchair. He slumps down, careful to not spill his drink. Isak really hopes Jonas’ clothes are cleaner than they look. He likes that chair, and replacing an antique item is always a bit of a hassle.

“So,” Isak asks after near five minutes of silence, “what do you want?”

“A million.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. I want a million kroner, in cash, unsequenced serial numbers.”

Isak laughs in disbelief. Not because that would sound like a lot of money, because it isn’t, and he probably has that much cash in the house right now, but because Jonas wants something so mundane and meaningless like money. 

“Are you serious?”

Jonas takes something from his breast pocket. A piece of paper, folded in four, worn soft and wrinkly. Isak knows what it is before Jonas tells him.

“I still have your letter.”

“That old thing?” Isak tries to sound like he doesn’t care, but he fails miserably. His voice cracks into a high pitched note. His hands almost shake and he’s pale as a ghost. He cares. He has always cared. “What for?”

Jonas folds it open on his knee. Oh god, no, is he going to read it? Isak can see the slightly faded letters, he recognises his own handwriting. The slightly wobbly letters that look like they would flutter away from the page at the slightest startle. His heart is feeling a bit like that right now.

“It’s my favourite keepsake. Worth quite a bit, too. The more name you get for yourself, the more valuable this thing becomes, you know?”

Isak walks to the side table and grabs the decanter with him. He walks to Jonas and fills his glass. He almost spills, but not quite. Jonas reeks of alcohol under the more pleasant aroma of the scotch, he seems to have lost more weight and his eyes are set too deep in his head. The kindness that Isak could see in them before was gone. Things happened like they happened, and Isak and Jonas became who they became, end of a sad story.

“So you’re selling it to me for a million?”

Jonas laughs at Isak’s face.

“Fuck no! What your million buys is me promising to keep this for the time being.”

Isak steps back. He leaves the decanter on the table by the armchair and walks to his desk.

“Why?”

“Why what?” Jonas barks. He’s trying to make himself angry. People cope differently.

“Why are you doing this?”

“I need that million. You have it. It’s just business.”

“If you want just money you can simply ask for it.”

“No, I can’t. Not from you.”

They are silent for a moment. Isak is standing by his desk, with his back turned to Jonas, his eyes closed. Breathe. Breathe in the divine.

“I’ll be right back.”

“Where are you going?”

“To get your money.” Isak walks around the desk, unlocks the drawer with his thumb print and takes the keys. “Help yourself with the scotch.”

In the elevator Isak presses the teeth of the key into his palm as hard as he possibly can. When the doors slide open Isak takes the key and pushes it into the lock. The vault opens. Isak steps inside. He has about ten millions worth of cash in here. He likes cash, it’s concrete and tangible. He likes the way the paper feels like in his fingers.

Isak counts a hundred stacks of ten thousand kroner and gathers them in four large brown envelopes. He is hugging them with his both arms when he returns to Jonas.

“Here. One million, cash. I counted it myself.”

Jonas grabs an envelope and dives in. He flips through a couple of stacks to make sure about the serial numbers. At least he doesn’t embarrass Isak by counting them.

“Why do you need the money? Will you need more in a week?”

“None of your fucking business, Issy. Our business is this --” Jonas waves the envelope he’s holding. “-- right here. And it’s now complete. For now.”

Isak can’t see the letter anymore. Jonas has probably hidden it in his breast pocket again. Isak just nods and steps aside, letting Jonas get up from the armchair.

“I’m just worried.”

“No!” Jonas exclaims, scrunching the envelopes hard against himself. “You don’t get to be worried about me! Not in this fucking penthouse.”

Jonas heads for the elevators.

“Wait.” Jonas stops, but he doesn’t look at Isak. Fair enough. “You can’t walk around like that, shedding stacks of money. Let me get you a bag.”

“Fine. But hurry up, I’ve got places to be.”

Isak hurries up. He gets a bag from his walk-in closet and brings it to Jonas.

“It’s a Fendi. But I haven’t used it once, so I suppose I don’t need it. The documents are in the inside pocket, as is the dust bag. Wear a suit when you pawn or sell it.”

Jonas gives Isak a look he doesn’t quite understand. But he takes the bag, shoves the envelopes in it and marches into the elevator. Isak keeps looking at him until the doors slide closed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The book Isak is reading is How to Walk on Water and Climb up Walls: Animal Movement and the Robots of the Future by David Hu


	7. Even

* * *

_Two silhouettes by the cash machine make a lovers dance_  


* * *

Even’s sleeping rhythm is messed up once again, thanks to the full weekend of partying almost around the clock. Yesterday he fell asleep around six or seven in the evening, which means he’s wide awake when Eskild comes home from the club he dances at. He is sitting in he kitchen with a bowl of dry corn flakes. (More stirring them with the spoon for the ASMR experience than eating them, the gentle dry rattle of the flakes.)

“Hey”, Even says, to let Eskild know he is here and awake. Eskild waddles into the kitchen. He’s wearing a pair of go-go boots and a pained grin.

“Someone fucking stole my shoes from the locker room! That bitch is so dead. I’m sure it was Marion, her foot is my size.” Eskild practically falls on a chair and yanks the zippers open so hard the other one gets stuck. “Fuuuuck!”

“Don’t wake up Mikael”, Even says. He clinks his spoon in the bowl and gets on his knees in front of Eskild to help him out. He wiggles the zipper a bit. “Uh. There’s a fifty stuck in here.”

Eskild laughs.

“That’s where it went? I thought I had lost it. You better not break it, it’s yours.”

Even struggles with the zipper. The paper is stuck between the teeth, and the tab doesn’t want to move past it.

“Mine?”

“Yeah, I managed to finally scrape up my part of the rent. Here.” Eskild takes three handfuls of bills from his bag and piles it into a heap on the table. “I’m sorry it’s a bit wrinkly, most of it has been stuffed somewhere.”

“Uh. Ew?”

Eskild laughs.

“It’s still money.”

Even pulls the zipper open and salvages the fifty from the boot.

“It sure is. Even with teethmarks.”

Eskild steals the fifty from Even and puts it between his teeth. He bites down, grinning.

“Idiot.” Even pulls himself up from the floor and starts to straighten out the money on the table. Eskild helps him count it to make sure, and yes, it is exactly what Eskild owes him. Even looks at him.

“Will this mean you will be behind next month, too?”

“I should be offended. But I’m too tired.” Eskild stifles a yawn, badly. “I’ll be on time next month. And now I’m off to bed. I have a shift at the nursing home tomorrow.”

“Wait.” Even takes a couple of hundreds from the pile and hands them over to Eskild. “Get yourself new shoes.”

Eskild opens his eyes wide and pouts his lips.

“Thank you, daddy.”

Eskild does take the money, though. Even gives his ass a smack the moment he turns around, and Eskild retreats into his room laughing quietly. Even is left alone with the money. He strokes at it like it’s skin. It feels just as good as skin does. Even gathers it all closer to him and bends down to lie on it. It whispers to him, sweet nothings, promises of a better life.

Even wakes up when someone closes the door of the apartment. He raises his head, a twenty stuck on his cheek, and looks at the clock on the microwave. Seven thirty. It’s either Mik or Eskild, or both. Even’s neck is killing him, thanks to sleeping on the fucking table. He’d better just crawl into bed.

After collecting all the money in one neat-ish stack Even grabs a bottle of water with him. He should probably take his meds. He’s not sure when was the last time he took them, but now is most likely time for a dose. The buzz from the party has finally worn off, and he shouldn’t have to worry about side effects anymore.

Even crashes on his back on his bed. He flips through the stack in his hand. This money is the second dirtiest he has held in his hand. When he mixes it with the dirtiest, the taint will be diluted by the slightest bit. Even spreads the money into a fan and waves it over his face. He pushes his other hand inside the pillowcase.

Notebook.  
Condoms.  
Lube.

Nothing else.

The money is gone.

Even sits up and lets go of the money fan so fast the bills spread all over the bed and the floor. He pulls the pillow out of the pillowcase and turns the fabric pouch inside out. There is no money inside it. It is gone. All of it. Even runs a list in his head, a list of people who could have taken it, who have been here this weekend, and he is so fucking ashamed when he remembers something Mikael said to him.

His bed isn’t exactly Fort Knox.

How many people has he slept with between now and then? Five? Six? No, five, that one girl visited him twice. Maybe it was her? She noticed the cash on her first visit and then came back for it? That is so, so fucking likely that it makes Even a bit sick to his stomach.

What the fuck is her name? She told Even her name, and Even didn’t listen, because he never listens, because he doesn’t care. He should have cared this time.

Then again, if she came here to steal Even’s cash, she probably gave him a fake name. And even if she didn’t, a first name and a description  _ young and hot and kinda easy _ wouldn’t narrow the suspects down by much. This is a party house. People come and go all the time.

Fuck.  
Fuck fuck fuck eighty and a four hundred times.

He can not, under any circumstance, let Mikael know about this. He would tear Even a new one, and, worst of all, he would be so, so fucking disappointed in Even. Again. Even can’t handle Mikael being disappointed in him, not one more time.

He needs more money. He needs it fast.

A magazine on the floor, half under the bed.

Now all he has to do is decide which would be worse. That Mikael is disappointed in him, or he is, himself. That is a no-brainer, really. Even takes his phone and opens the messages.

_ The money is gone. I’m sorry. _

Mik is probably in class now. Or the class is about to start. Anyhow Even has a couple of hours to panic about the possible reply and -- his phone beeps. He reads the message.

_ I’m coming home. I can explain. _

Even stares at his screen, frowning. What the fuck? Mik coming home is logical, he is probably too upset to stay at the uni, but what does he have to explain? It doesn’t make sense. Nothing makes sense. Even reaches for the box under the bed. He unfolds the medicine package leaflets carefully and counts all the money. It’s intact. It’s all there. Thank you, universe, for not making Even completely your bitch.

It’s a long half an hour, but finally Mikael arrives. Even comes to meet him by the door, and when Mikael removes his winter coat Even notices something. He looks at Mikael, carefully, like he always does, and he can tell.

“All of your clothes are brand new. And brand name. High end brand name, to be precise -- are those AirPods?”

Mikael takes the white earbuds off his ears and slips them in the pocket of his Adidas track pants. He takes off his shoes, that must have cost at least fifteen hundred. He looks at Even quite sheepishly.

“I can explain.”

Even doesn’t know what to say. Every option he can come up with is too bad to think of.

“Please. Please explain.”

It just seems that Mikael doesn’t really have an explanation. He stands there, near the kitchen door, twisting his fingers. Even keeps looking at his belly button, bared by his crop top and unzipped hoodie.

 “Mikael. Did you? Please tell me you didn’t.”

“I will pay it all back! I swear!” Mikael barks. He sounds weird. Angry. Even steps a bit closer so he can see Mikael better in the dim light. His eyes look almost black.

“Mik are you on something?”

Mikael whips his head to the side and purses his lips.

“Most of the time? Uni is fucking hard work and I’m swamped, and my calculator broke so I was going to take just enough to get a new one. Then I decided that I’ll take it all to the bank. I swear, I was going to take it all to the bank!”

Even tries to stay calm. He really, really is trying.

“What did you do? Mickey, where is my money?”

Mikael turns to look at him.

“Do you even remember the things you once promised me? No more hand-me-downs, my very own room, store bought clothes? You promised to take me away from there. Remember?”

Even remembers. He has tried hard to forget, but he remembers. The summer nights on the roof of the apartment building, on his back beside Mikael, looking up at the sky and talking about a better future just within their reach. Back then he would have promised Mikael anything he ever asked -- but he never asked for much.

“This is the first time in my life I’m not wearing anything used. It’s all brand new, all bought just for me, and I am keeping it. You’ll get your money back before you need it.” Mikael’s voice is black and venomous. He doesn’t think highly of Even, that much is clear.

“I don’t need it”, Even says. “If I needed it it would be gone. I don’t need it.”

Mikael looks surprised. And intrigued. Even keeps talking.

“You look really good. And you do need a calculator for your studies. I’m not mad at you and you don’t need to pay me back. It’s just money. I can always make more of it if I need it.”

Mikael doesn’t look angry anymore. Even is so fucking relieved.

“I mean it. Keep it. Happy birthday. Merry Christmas. Many times over, I must owe you a dozen presents.”

Mikael glances at the microwave. Even does so, too.

“You should get back to uni. Wait.” Even hurries to his room and returns with a fifty. “Buy yourself a coffee on the way.”

Mikael looks at the money in Even’s hand. Then he takes it and shoves it in his pocket. He takes the AirPods out with the same momentum.

“I really am sorry.”

“It’s cool. Just promise me you keep the drugs under control, okay?”

Mikael flashes him a weary smile. Then he buries himself inside his winter clothes, pulls his fancy shoes on and leaves. Even returns in his room and takes the box out from under the bed. He unfolds the leaflets and shakes the money on the bed, collects every bill carefully and stuffs them in an envelope. Even takes his phone and checks when the nearest bank will be open.


	8. Isak

* * *

_ It's a tango for the lonely wives of the business class _

* * *

 

Isak Valtersen is sitting in a concert hall, looking bored and playing with his phone. This whole event is arranged in his name, but that doesn’t mean he has to like it. Sure, it’s for charity, and that’s what his presence is as well: at least a third of the tickets sold tonight have been bought by people willing to have a chance, however minor, to meet him personally. Be noticed by him. Right now he isn’t noticing anybody, he is just idly browsing the newsfeed, when something catches his eye. It’s a short news story about a petty criminal who got caught trying to pawn a Fendi bag without any proof of purchase or appropriate documentation. He stops hearing the music around him. The whole concert hall disappears from existence. It loses its meaning and thus its presence.

Jonas has been arrested. And Isak is responsible of that, he has no doubt in his mind that Jonas isn’t thinking this is all Isak’s fault. No matter that Isak told him about the need of a suit, and gave him the documentation, it doesn’t make a difference whatsoever. Isak gave the bag to Jonas, and now Jonas is rotting in a cell for it.

Isak knows what the cells can be like. He has read at least half a dozen petitions that people have, for some reason, decided to send to him instead of someone with actual jurisdiction. People have died in police custody.

Isak looks around. He can’t leave. There are too many people watching, and Isak doesn’t want to make up lies unless it is absolutely necessary. Even then, the lies have to be fabricated carefully. Seamless. No chance of getting caught. He can’t come up with a lie like that here, now, when Jonas needs him. He can’t think clearly. He can’t think. He can’t breathe. Why is this fucking music so loud?

He reaches into his pocket and pops the small metal tin open. His fingers fish out a capsule, and with a twist and a flick of a nail it is open. It’s easy to feign a yawn and bring the half of a capsule and its powdered content by his nose. One sharp breath, a second of a burning sensation, and everything is calmer again. The music settles, his heart stops trying to escape his chest through his throat. He still can’t think, though, but he knows he has to act.

Isak browses through his phone in search for inspiration. Then he finds a conversation from a while back, one he has kept on a whim. Mementos are convenient in the digital age. Immaterial, yet ever present. Isak checks the time and the setlist, calculates himself enough time to change into something more comfortable and taps in a message without giving it too much thought. He knows he will get what he wants. He knows the price of the man who is receiving his inquiry.

_10K for you tonight, cash. My place @21:21._

The rentboy replies quickly, with a simple  _ Yes. _ Isak finally slips his phone in his pocket and pretends to pay attention to the music playing. He fucking hates Grieg.

Isak spends the ride home deep in thought. He’s thinking about Jonas. About the million he got from Isak, and how that wasn’t enough, because Jonas wanted to pawn the Fendi this soon after. What the fuck has that boy gotten himself into? Again? When will Isak learn it’s none of his business anymore?

Not today, that’s for sure.

He still sees Eva every now and then. In some social gatherings or events or soirées. She looks happy. She tends to have a new guy as her plus one every time Isak sees her, but they all know which fork to use and how to have meaningless conversations over non-controversial topics for three hours straight. They look like they belong, which is something Jonas never did.

It only just now occurs to Isak that maybe Jonas doesn’t  _ have _ a suit. Shit. Still, he could have been not an idiot and taken the documentation with him. Jonas has never understood how civilized people act. He wasn’t brought up properly, because he grew up in a different world. Where exactly Eva found him, Isak doesn’t know. He just knows that when Eva first brought him with her Isak fell for him immediately.

Of course he didn’t know what it was, back then. He had no idea it was possible, to fall for a boy. Now he knows it is simply impossible, but there was a time, a couple of years of slow torture, when he thought it could be done. They were a tight group, him and Eva and Jonas, and every time Eva picked up the tab for both of them they all just pretended it wasn’t happening.

It’s not easy to pretend a million kroner doesn’t exist. But not impossible.

Isak visits the vault on his way up. He has copies of all paperwork such as the bag’s documents, filed neatly in a cabinet, and he finds the Fendi’s papers easily. When he enters his apartment it’s nine o’clock, sharp. He pours himself a scotch.

This time the rentboy is punctual. At precisely 21:21 the intercom buzzes.

“Let him come”, Isak says before he is asked. He listens to the silent humming of the elevator, how it first goes down and then comes up. It’s a soothing sound. It helps him focus. It helps him become.

“So, you spent everything I gave you last time already?” Isak turns to look at the man, this time believing he’s more prepared to see him. He is wrong. The rentboy looks even better in his own clothes, in that ridiculous outfit of his. Who in their right mind wears two hoodies at the same time? But all those layers just make Isak want to peel them off one by one, and he is so not prepared for this. Jonas is too close, under his skin, making him feel uncomfortable in it.

“It’s really not that much. All it bought was a party, a calculator and a set of clothes.”

“Must have been some party.” Isak has to admit he has no idea what things like calculators or clothes cost. Or anything. He doesn’t need to know. The only price he knows is the price of this man, and that’s so, so low it’s almost sad.

A party, a calculator and a set of clothes.

“I’ve had better”, the rentboy says and shrugs. “Why am I here?”

Isak takes a deep breath, places the envelope with the papers on the desk in front of him and explains. Jonas needs to get out, and this man will make that happen. All he needs to do is get in a suit, visit the police station, present the documents and tell them the bag was indeed not stolen. And then he will get out of there before Jonas can see him.

The rentboy doesn’t say anything. Isak looks at him, cocking his head a bit.

“I’m sorry, did I go too fast? Should I use smaller words?”

“So, this friend of yours, the one in the jail. Is he an idiot?”

Isak slams his hand on the table so hard it hurts his shoulder.

“I am not paying you to ask questions, rentboy.”

“Well, technically, you’re not paying me at all, so.”

Isak rolls his eyes. Seriously, money, the most mundane thing of all, is all people ever care about. Money is nothing! It’s paper! Most of it is not even that, just ones and zeroes on hard drives.

“You know what? If you don’t want the job, I’ll find someone else do it. You are dismissed.”

The rentboy shifts. Isak can tell he’s not happy about the turn of events. How desperate is he? Isak can’t wait to find out, but not now. Jonas has to get out.

“Ten thousand kroner. With your name on it.”

He chuckles, all of a sudden. Isak stares at him. Why is he chuckling? What’s so fucking funny?

“Really? My  _ name _ on it? You have no idea what my name is.”

Isak reaches into his pocket. He takes out the roll of bills and looks under the first one.

“So your name isn’t Even?”

The rentboy’s face is priceless. Much more interesting than money.

“The wardrobe is in the bedroom. Go change.” Isak waves his hand in the general direction of the bedroom. Even sort of sneaks past him. All he had was his pride and now Isak has taken that from him. But he willl be compensated. Generously. Soon enough Even returns. Isak’s suit is not a perfect fit, but it fits well enough. The pearly gray really brings out those blue eyes, too.

“How’s your schedule for the rest of the night?” Isak asks. The rentboy doesn’t bother to pretend to check.

“That ten grand won’t stretch far.”

“There’s more where that came from.”

Isak can see the flash of greed spread across the blue and then disappear. Time to up the stakes. He pulls the drawer out and places the mirror on the table, and the small plastic bags on top of it.

“I know how to throw a party, too.”

“Well.” The rentboy licks his lips quickly. He can’t take his eyes off the mirror. “I’m always up for a party.”

“I can tell.” Before either of them figures out if that’s an insult Isak grabs the envelope and hands it over to Even. “Work first. Party later.”

The elevator hums. Isak looks at the baggies of bliss on the table, but decides to wait. It’s not polite to start the party before all the guests have arrived.

 


	9. Even

Even didn’t expect this when he responded to the rich bastard’s message. But here he is, at the police station, waiting for his turn. It feels weird to be sitting on this side of the bars for a change.

Hell, everything feels weird today. Things are a bit tense with Mik. Even has told him again and again that he doesn’t need to pay back what he took, and that all Mik owes him is passing his classes with the help of his fancy new calculator, but still -- Mik doesn’t look at him the same way.

Mik barely looks at him at all.

It’s Even’s turn to approach the counter. He gets up, still hugging his bag, and walks to the lady who looks like she doesn’t have time for anyone’s shit, yet she is stuck here dealing with it.

“Uh. Hello. I’m here to make a statement on someone you have arrested.”

It takes a while to make the lady understand Even is the victim of a crime that didn’t happen. He explains it over and over again, keeping as calm as he possibly can. There has been a misunderstanding, and it was an error on his part that he forgot to give the paperwork with the bag, and he is terribly sorry about all this confusion, and if he could just retrieve his friend he would take him off their hands.

Fifteen minutes later Even is facing a man he has never seen in his life and hugs him like an old friend.

“Play along”, he mumbles quietly, “I’m your old friend Even.”

The man hugs him back and pats his shoulder.

“Even! Thanks, man. I kept telling these idiots that I am no thief, but they didn’t listen.”

Even glances at the cops quickly. They don’t look pleased, and this house of cards could fall apart any moment. They need to get out of here.

“Chill, man. It was a mistake. My mistake. Let me buy you a beer okay?”

Even manages to get Jonas out of the police station. They head for a bar a bit further away and Even pays for their beers with money from Isak Valtersen’s wallet. Jonas looks at him, frowning a bit.

“So who the fuck are you?”

Even shrugs.

“I’m nobody, really. He couldn’t come personally, he’s too famous, so he sent me.”

Jonas scoffs and sips his beer.

“He’s too in love with himself and his status, you mean.”

Even shrugs. He really has no idea. He doesn’t know the man, and he is happy with that. Even takes the envelope from his bag.

“He sent you this. For the Fendi, he wants it back now.”

Jonas snatches the envelope from Even and peeks inside. Even can see his thumb move, flipping across the stack of money.

“This is ten grand”, Jonas says. Even almost flinches. And he waits. He sees the struggle on Jonas’ face, he sees how bad Jonas wants to both take the money and throw it in Even’s face.

“If you don’t take it, I will, and just tell him you did.”

Jonas takes the money. He stands up and finishes his beer with two gulps. Then he leaves, without saying a word. He leaves the Fendi on the chair. Even reaches over to take it and decides to hang in here for a couple of beers more. Just to make the bastard simmer in his own juices for a bit.

When Even is back in the elevator he is already a bit drunk. The pleasant aura of a light buzz envelopes his head in a soft embrace. As the elevator stops and the doors open Even marches in the apartment and throws the Fendi on a chair, carelessly like a backpack after school.

“Done.”

Isak Valtersen looks like he’s sitting on pins and needles. Whoever this Jonas guy is, he seems to be important to this man. It’s hard to believe, based on Jonas’ appearance. He is a simple punk, nothing more. If possible, he is further away from this world than Even is.

“How was he?”

Even looks away. The scenery really is breathtaking up here.

“Upset. Shaken. You know how it is, in the cells.”

“I do not”, the man says. “I suppose you do?”

“It’s not fun. If you’re locked up alone it can really drive you mad, and if you’re locked up with someone -- he had a pretty mouth, you know.”

Even can see that Isak Valtersen knows about Jonas’ pretty mouth.  _ Interesting. _

“I mean, I’m no expert, but I’ve seen young guys who are in way over their head with things like that. Not all are fit for this line of work. He put on a brave face, for sure, but -- who knows?”

“Did he say something? Did he take the money?”

God, this man is desperate to know. He looks almost vulnerable know. When you want something bad enough, it becomes a weakness.

“He took it and left. Clearly didn’t want to talk about it.”

“I can’t blame him for not wanting to have a conversation with a simple prostitute.”

That is a weak stab, and they both know it.

“I think he looked kinda familiar. I might have seen him in a cell before. It’s hard to tell, that guy was face deep in some thug’s junk, but from behind it was uncanny.”

Isak Valtersen steps back. He turns around and goes to pour himself a scotch. He spills a drop on his fancy pants.

“So, are we having that party now?”

The man waves at the desk, where the mirror, the blade and the baggies still are.

“Help yourself.”

“Not for free. Sir.”

Even takes a little bow, but that sadly goes to waste because Valtersen still has his back turned on him.

“How much?” He doesn’t sound angry, or taken aback, or anything, really. Maybe a bit tired.

“You know my rate”, Even says, trying to sound equally calm. He keeps glancing at the desk. It’s been forever since he’s done some grade-A cocaine. This guy can afford the top of the line, for sure.

“Should I fetch the cash now?”

“Nah. I trust a returning customer.” Even has kind of migrated to the desk and twists a baggie open. He pours a bit of the powder on the mirror. Then, after a second of consideration, a bit more. This is a party, after all. And Isak Valtersen is a handsome man, but Even doesn’t  _ like _ him one bit. He needs the extra boost. When he bows down he closes his eyes so he can’t see his face in the mirror beneath him.

“Fuck this is good shit! Fuck!” Even sniffles and rubs his nose a bit. The high attacks him in a rush, making his whole body all tingly. He is feeling so fucking good right now that he barely can take it. His grin must illuminate the whole apartment. He has a great grin. He’s a good looking guy all over, and this suit really, really works for him.

Finally his company turns around and faces him. Then he looks at the bags and the mirror, and Even can see the struggle. That man wants to, but knows he shouldn’t, and he is lucky to have a professional party guy in his service. Even presses his fingers on the desk and cocks his head.

“Want to draw a line from my belly? I have a cute belly button.”

Even decides to show instead of telling. He pulls the shirt out of his pants and unbuttons the couple of the lowest buttons. He pulls the shirt hem apart like a curtain at a show. The audience is captured from the very beginning. Even draws a little circle around his cute belly button, his chin pressed down a bit. Mik taught him that move.

It works like a charm. The man walks to Even, his eyes locked on that bare patch of skin. Even is feeling so fucking great, he is a sex god among men, and he is irresistible to even the prudest of prudes, the stuck up of all stuck ups. He sways his hips a bit, too, in a hypnotic circular motion. Luring the catch.

But the man walks past him. Very close, almost brushing his body with his, but still, past him. Isak Valtersen takes a bit of cocaine on his fingernail and sniffs it directly from there. No class at all, really.

If you’re this rich and powerful, you don’t need class. Especially around prostitutes. Even puts his hands on the desk and leans back a bit, letting the shirt still fall off his stomach.

“Have you ever done a line of coke from a body before?”

The man rubs his nose. Then he raises his face and looks at Even, and Even sees something he hasn’t seen before. Isak Valtersen is smiling.

“Fuck, that  _ is _ good stuff.”

Even nods. He circles his belly button again, and draws a line down to his belt, too. He sees the green eyes follow the movement. Why he is this determined to make that man want to touch him, he doesn’t know. It probably has something to do with power.

Wanting something is a weakness.

“Put some music on. I want to dance to you.”

The man takes his phone and fiddles with it for a bit. Music starts blasting from the speaker system, in the middle of a song, at first so loud that Even’s ears sting and the bass shakes his organs in a not fun way. The volume is immediately lowered, but Even now knows something he’s not supposed to know. Nobody listens to this music on that volume for fun. But he gets distracted when he recognises the song.

“Fuck Tha Police? Really?”

“Seems to fit the theme of the night.”

Isak Valtersen grins. Even grins, too. Then they burst out laughing.


	10. Isak

Isak is sinking into an armchair. The black faux leather is smooth and soft like butter, the upholstery hand stitched by someone who got paid for their time. None of Isak’s guests can tell the difference, but Isak himself can. Power and exploitation are two different things.

Speaking of someone who’s getting paid for their time. Isak holds his glass up and lets the rentboy fill it up with whiskey. He takes a sip - no, a gulp - and lets it wash down the foul taste in his mouth. The little skank has taken off his shirt and is wearing only a suit’s jacket and a loose tie - both of which he has taken off Isak. Isak has popped the top buttons himself, just to give himself some room to breathe. He can’t take his eyes off the guy who is dancing in front of him, showing off his pretty belly button.

“Let’s do shots!”

Isak raises his eyes up to the rentboy’s face. It doesn’t help all that much, he has a gorgeous face. His eyes look almost wild. How much cocaine have they done? Isak has no idea. He doesn’t care. What was the question again?

“What?”

“Shots!” He is alreday raiding the bar. He clinks two shot glasses on the desk and cracks a bottle of tequila open. Isak keeps staring at him. That guy sure knows how to party, it seems. Why shouldn’t he trust a professional?

When the rentboy lays down on the bar, letting the jacket hang over the sides, his torso now bare, and balances a shot glass on his belly button Isak knows exactly why.

“I’d rather not.”

“Whaat? Come on! It’s fun!”

“I’m not doing body shots with you.”

He looks down at his body and pouts. Isak can’t stop staring at him. Then he looks at Isak. Like, looks-looks at him, running his gaze up and down Isak’s body.

“Well, obviously not! But you can do one from me.”

Isak almost chokes. He tries to loosen his tie, even though he can plainly see it’s around the rentboy’s neck right now. Isak notices his feet are touching the floor, they are so long, and has to turn his eyes away.

“I said no. I’m the customer, thus I’m right.”

The rentboy laughs.

“The customer hires the professional for a reason.”

Isak has to admit he has a point. Isak hired this person to have a party with him, and a professional party boy knows his field. But there are things he doesn’t know.

“Look, I’m not --” The buzzer rings. Isak staggers his way to it. Who the fuck is it, at this hour? “Yes?”

“There’s a Jonas asking for you, sir. Again.”

Before Isak can think about it, he tells to send him up. The thought of seeing Jonas fills him up with expectation and hunger, not unlike he was feeling just moments ago, staring at the rentboy’s long legs.

“Give me that fucking shot”, Isak grunts and grabs the glass from the bare stomach with his hand. He downs it and waves his hand, ushering the guy pour another one. Isak downs that too, and then he can hear the elevator approach.

“Should I get up?”

“Do whatever the fuck you want”, Isak says, without even looking at him. He is looking at the elevator, waiting. He needs to hear Jonas is okay. He needs to hear it from Jonas.

The elevator doors open. Jonas steps in. He looks like shit. He’s drunk. He’s -- Isak doesn’t dare think that thought through, not really, he just peeks at it quickly and tucks it away like he has always done.

But Jonas is beautiful.

Jonas looks over at the bar and grins.

“Hello again, my old friend Even.”

Isak remembers now. Oh, holy shit. How could he forget? The rentboy and Jonas have met. Because Isak was a coward.

“Oh, hi! Want a body shot?”

Isak almost chokes. He can’t really feel his legs. He manages to somehow drag himself to the armchair again, and he sits down. Jonas walks to the bar. When did the party boy pour another shot and place it on his stomach? Isak watches as Jonas sprinkles a line of salt on the bare belly and places a wedge of lime between the plump lush lips.

Jonas is not going to -- is he?

Jonas bends down. He sticks his tongue out and licks the salt off, wraps his lips around the glass and stands up, tilting his head back. He spits the empty glass on his hand and bends down again, to press his mouth on the lime and suck on it. Isak can’t breathe.

How long does it take to suck on a lime after a shot of tequila?

Where did that lime go?

Isak sees it on the floor by Jonas’ foot. His blood freezes.

If the lime is there -- what is Jonas sucking on?

Isak keeps his eyes on the green wedge. He can’t look up at them. He can’t see whatever it is that is happening right now, because it will break his heart and turn him on at the same time so much that he might simply implode.

Why does he have to be this drunk?

Finally, after a small forever, Jonas stands up. He smacks his lips loudly.

“Yum! You have great taste, Isak. And expensive.”

Isak doesn’t say anything. Neither does the rentboy. He just keeps lounging on the bar, with his long legs. What a dick.

“You see, I did some research today.” Jonas pulls out his phone and wiggles it at Isak. He places his fingers on the bare belly on the bar. “This little piece of ass is quite pricey. You really sent your prostitute to bail me out? After all we’ve been through?”

Jonas is talking too much. Doesn’t he understand that the rentboy has ears?

“What do you want?” Isak asks, trying to sound annoyed instead of desperate. He can’t get the image of the kiss he almost saw out of his head.

“I want to join this little party. I love to party. You know that.”

Isak swallows. His mouth is so dry. He needs a drink. He waves his hand at the bar and at the desk.

“Help yourself.”

Jonas does. He walks to the desk, picks up some cocaine and sniffs it from his nail. Just like Isak himself did earlier. It was Jonas who taught him that. Isak remembers, painfully, it was the last party Jonas was still a part of. They haven’t been partying together ever since.

“Hey! Evy! Pour me another shot!” Jonas yells from the desk, then takes a sniff in his other nostril too. Isak watches the rentboy fill up a glass, sprinkle the salt and push a lime in his mouth.

Evy?

Isak’s head is spinning. But he doesn’t feel drunk. He feels...empty. He knows Jonas is doing this on purpose, but he can’t confront him on it. He can’t ask Jonas to stop. He knows Jonas is not gay, or even bi. He knows.

“You sure you don’t want a shot?”

Isak blinks. He looks up. And sees  _ Evy _ on his back, looking at him, smiling like a whore smiles at a customer. It makes him feel sick to his stomach.

“I need a break”, Isak manages to mumble. He really, really needs one, too. Jonas laughs. His laugh is so familiar it aches. Isak turns to look at him and sees, he really sees the difference. The contrast. Jonas laughs like he did years ago but he doesn’t look the same. He has lost weight, a lot of it, he’s almost too skinny. His eyes are deeper in his head, his cheekbones are sharper, his hair is longer and messier. But still, he is Jonas. He is Jonas.

Jonas walks to the bar. But instead of bending down he climbs up. He climbs on the bar and straddles the rentboy’s thighs between his knees. They smile at each other, Jonas with a wicked glint and the other guy with radiant welcome. A professional party boy smile. Jonas grabs him from the hips before bending down.

It looks like it’s happening in slow motion. Isak notices a million details. How Jonas’ fingers bend when they take their grip. How the tie hangs down over a collarbone and into the armpit. How the toes press against the floor. How the tongue glistens with saliva as it picks up the white grains from the fair skin. The gleam of sweat above Jonas’ top lip as his mouth wraps around the glass. The way the bottom of the glass sticks on the skin a little bit, pulling it with it before it lets go. How the Adam’s apple bobs up and down as Jonas swallows the tequila. The drop of lime juice that bursts out of the wedge and lands on the rentboy’s cheek. Isak keeps staring at that drop, he sees the muscles under it move as they kiss again. He can see Jonas’ tongue move inside the other guy’s mouth.

He has seen enough.

Isak stands up, though he has no idea how he does it. He still can’t feel his legs. They both stop, and look at him. Jonas with a crooked grin, the rentboy with a sweet saccharine smile. They make Isak feel sick for completely separate but surprisingly similar reasons. Jonas hops down and the rentboy sits up.

Isak forces a smile on his face. He turns the music up.

“Let’s dance.”


	11. Even

This party has taken a turn. Even isn’t too sure where it has turned to, but it has turned. He almost convinced his host to do just one little body shot and then this Jonas appeared. They have history, Even can tell that much. His employer knows Jonas has a pretty mouth. Maybe an ex? No, no, can’t be. Nobody who is  _ this guy’s _ ex will return this willingly. No matter how much money there is at stake.

Well. Even has to admit, that when it comes to Isak Valtersen, it is a fucking lot of money.

Would he come back? Hell yes. The cocaine is the best he has ever done, the alcohol is all top shelf shit and this apartment has all the goods one can wish for. Even looks around at the walls where lights are dancing and smiles. They’re so pretty. He could never have guessed Isak Valtersen has a disco ball in his living room, tucked in a cupboard behind the bar, but there it is, spinning, sparkling, beautiful.

Even gets up on his feet. He can barely walk, it seems, it’s more like modern dancing, but he manages to keep himself upright long enough to get to the bar. He picks a bottle he thinks is the prettiest one, uncaps it and drinks straight from it. The sickeningly sweet, thick liquid fills his mouth and throat, and he can hear someone laugh at his expression.

“That’s  _ grenadine _ you fucking idiot!”

Ah. It’s Jonas. Isak Valtersen doesn’t talk like that.

By the way, where is Isak Valtersen?

Even looks around but can’t see him. But he can see Jonas, whom he looks at defiantly as he takes another swig of the sugar syrup.

“Ever heard of a sugar rush?” Even asks. Jonas grins. He grins differenty at Even compared to how he grins at their host. Less sharp. Even shoves the bottle away and grabs something clear instead. Gin? Oh, well. He’s drunk enough for gin.

“So”, Jonas says, swinging his legs over the arm rest of the chair he’s occupying. “How is he in the sack?”

Even tries to connect the dots in his head, but everything is swimming in booze.

“How is he..you mean him? Like,  _ him _ him?”

Jonas rolls his eyes. He is way, way less drunk than Even is. Or their host. Probably on purpose. A professional party boy knows this type, oh yes he does.

“Yes,  _ him. _ How is he?”

“I don’t kiss and tell”, Even says, but isn’t sure about his face. It can be saying something completely different. Even doesn’t like this conversation, it feels like a trap. Not necessarily a trap for him, but he isn’t enjoying being the bait, either.

“I bet he is rubbish.”

Oh.  _ Ohhh. _ Jonas is not an ex! Even isn’t sure why he is this happy to hear it.

“He’s one of the best I’ve had”, Even hears himself say. He isn’t sure why. He doesn’t like Isak Valtersen one bit. But his instincts are telling him that whatever Isak Valtersen has done to this guy, it’s not giving Jonas the right to do this. Whatever the hell this is.

Jonas is taken aback by what Even says. He leans a bit back, and raises his brows, in disbelief.

“Why haven’t you starved already?”

“What?”

“I mean, you are, if you don’t mind me saying, a prostitute. A whore. You fuck people for a living.”

Even snorts so hard he manages to get some gin in his sinuses. That’s not a pleasant feeling, and what better target for his anger than that asshole grinning in the chair? Even glares at Jonas through the water in his eyes, raised there by the gin. Mostly.

“I am an escort, dickhead! I don’t fuck people for a living! Only for fun.”

“Okay, so you obviously haven’t fucked him. Nobody touches that douche for fun. What did he buy you for, then?”

“None of your business, really.”

“Speaking of business.” Jonas raises his voice and lowers his feet on the floor. He runs his eyes up and down Even’s body. “How much?”

Even blushes. He blushes from the tip of his toes to the hair on his head. Two words, just two little words, and Even is made clear where he stands. What he is.

_ Hey, Maddy, guess what I had to pay him. _

Before Even can answer Jonas goes to his bag and pulls out an envelope. Even know what’s inside it. He knows exactly. It’s making his head swim.

“You see, I have come across some spare change recently. And you are a great kisser.”

Even blinks and feels something wet on his face. Ten grand is a lot. But he doesn’t fuck for money. Does he? Is Jonas asking him to?

“The price depends on what you want to do.” Deep breaths, party boy. You got this. It’s just business as usual, isn’t it?

Jonas looks at his body again. Even pulls the jacket around himself, to cover up. Jonas peeks in the envelope.

“What can I get for ten grand?”

_ He probably enjoys it. I’m sure I overpaid him. _

Even pulls a smile on his face. He doesn’t really need to make an effort for it, this is a smile he keeps in his pocket at all times.

“Anything you need. But, you see, I’m booked for tonight. Would you like to make an appointment?”

“Jonas. That’s enough.”

Even turns to look at the door that has just appeared in the middle of the windows. Oh, there’s a balcony? Neat. Isak Valtersen is standing in the doorway, and he’s not looking amused. Nor all that drunk. Is Even really the only person here who’s completely shitfaced?

Jonas looks at him, as well.

“Fuck you too, Issy.”

Even swallows. He wraps his arms around himself too, to make sure the jacket keeps him covered up. Issy? The name seems so affectionate. What the fuck has happened to make these two like this?

“Leave. Now.” Isak Valtersen is using his dryest tone. Even can imagine him talking to a roomful of executives with that voice. Commanding. Even can hear all the undertones, too. Leave, now,  _ or else. _ There must be guards or some other form of security in here, this is Isak Valtersen’s penthouse for fuck’s sake.

Jonas stands up. He swaggers to Even, grabs his head from both sides and kisses him. It feels like a cartoon kiss. Bugs Bunny kissing Elmer Fudd. Simply out of spite, to taunt. Even doesn’t kiss him back. He does his best to crush Jonas’ lips between their teeth, too.

“I’ve got your number, doll. Keep your calendar clear.” Jonas grins at Even, steps back, takes his bag and shoves the envelope back in it. When he steps in the elevator he looks at their host and raises his middle finger. He keeps holding it up until the doors slide closed.

“Oh for fuck’s sake.”

Even doesn’t say anything. This isn’t about him, and he has nothing to contribute to this conversation. He has seen something he shouldn’t have, and the secret makes him feel heavy. Kind of dirty.

The music is still playing. The bottles are everywhere, as is the cocaine, on every smooth and clear surface. The lights are dancing all over the walls. Isak Valtersen walks to the armchair and slumps down, pressing on the rigde of his nose with his fingertips. Even leans his hip on the bar, still hugging himself. The party is definitely over now.

Isak Valtersen sighs.

“How does he taste?”

Even wipes his lips, instinctively.

“Like lime.”


	12. Isak

This party is so over. But Isak doesn’t want it to be. He has bought his present company to party with him, and when the party was over, his services wouldn’t be needed anymore. Maybe this is just the stage where everything calms down. The music changes from dance beats to slower tunes, maybe even some progressive rock, the cocaine gets swapped to pot and everyone just..chills. Isak remembers parties like that. Back when Jonas was still around.

Jonas taught Isak how to use a bong. And how to make one.

He might have some weed stashed out somewhere. If he only could remember where. Maybe it will come back to him. Soon enough. Isak opens his eyes and sees the rentboy is still standing by the bar, like frozen, with the taste of lime on his full lips. Isak gets up from his chair and walks to the balcony door. He slides it open. He steps outside. He leaves the door open.

The wind feels good on his face. They’re so high up, it’s always windy up here. The city is asleep under Isak’s feet. It’s almost beautiful, the dark buildings, the street lights, the neon signs illuminating the empty streets. Isak steps out to the railing and leans over it, peeking down into the abyss that makes his stomach tingle. If he’d fall he would have enough time to realize he is going to die before he hits the ground.

It has tempted him for years. The fall. Not necessarily the death, especially his own, but. The fall. To see something, someone, tumble down all that height. Would Isak see it in their eyes? The moment when they understand they are going to die?

Isak sighs. He wouldn’t do that to anyone. He is rich enough to get away with murder, but he’s simply not the killing type. He doesn’t want to take a life. Not even his own. That’s probably the biggest reason he hasn’t jumped from this balcony yet. He’s not a killer.

“Whoa.”

Ah. The rentboy found his way to the doorway. Well done!

“I never get tired of it.” Isak looks at the horizon. He can see the sea from here. When there’s light. Now all he sees is black.

The rentboy steps up next to him. He takes a tentative peek over the railing and pulls back quickly.

“Fuck, that’s high.”

Isak shrugs.

“You get used to it.” That’s a lie. He isn’t used to it one bit. Every time he looks down he feels the vertigo. It’s a similar feeling he’s having now, looking at the rentboy’s profile in this low light.

Falling. Almost. The possibility of slipping and falling to his death.

“Give me your hand.”

The rentboy turns to look at him. Isak doesn’t dare look into his eyes.

“Huh?”

“Your hand. Please.” Isak holds out his hand, and after a moment of hesitation, the rentboy takes it. Isak holds on to his hand and stands up on the chair. From there, with the same momentum, without giving himself time to pull back, he steps up on the railing. The rentboy is tall enough to keep holding Isak’s hand, helping him to keep steady.

“What the fuck?!” Isak feels the guy squeeze his hand harder. Hard enough for it to hurt. Isak hears the fear in his voice, too. “Stop that! Please!”

The wind is pushing at Isak’s body in angry gusts. Without the rentboy’s hand he couldn’t do this. He would lose his balance and fall, and he couldn’t tell for certain which side of the railing he’d fall.

Fuck, what a rush.

“Isak! Don’t do this!”

Isak turns his eyes slowly. He looks at the man standing on the balcony, at the despair. His shoulder is shaking from holding on so hard.

The rentboy called him Isak. And Isak likes the way his name sounds in his voice.

“Please! Come down!” His screams are scattering in the wind. Isak turns, slowly, to face him. His back turned to the vast emptiness. To the dizzying fall. Isak leans back toward it, just a little bit. Their grip is holding effortlessly. Isak isn’t one bit scared.

Even is. Isak stands there, on the brink of a gruesome death, holding a hand he has paid for to be there. His life depending on the presence of that hand. Jonas would shove Isak down. He’d be right to do so. But this man, this rentboy, whose name Isak is scared to use in his head, would keep holding on even after Isak fell. They’d fall together. Isak has nothing, zero evidence he’s basing this thought on, but in this moment, this dizzying, insane moment, he knows. They would fall together.

“Please!”

Isak leans back just a bit more. The wind is in his hair. He can see the sky curve above him, heavy and black. Even grabs his arm and pulls, now too scared to keep waiting and hoping for the best. Willing to take the risk of Isak losing his balance.

Isak looks in those blue, dark eyes. His stomach is tingling. Vertigo.

Isak leans in. He falls.

Even catches him. He wraps his arms around Isak and retreats, as fast as his shaky legs can, pulling Isak with him. He doesn’t quite hit the doorway, so the window stops him. Even slithers down on the balcony’s floor, and Isak follows him because he’s being held so tight he can barely breathe.

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” Even keeps yelling that same word, over and over again. Isak can feel his chest under himself. He can feel it tremble.

“Calm down. I was safe the whole time.”

Even doesn’t seem to hear him. Or care. He keeps repeating the fucks, and shaking, and squeezing Isak. Isak closes his eyes and rests his head on Even’s shoulder, waiting for him to run out of steam.

It takes about five minutes. But finally Even stops screaming. He stops shaking. And he releases his grip enough so he can shove Isak off his lap.

“Fuck you! Fuck you you fucking sick perverted freak! Is this how you get your kicks?”

Isak doesn’t have an answer. He lays on the cold concrete floor and turns on his back, slowly. He looks up past Even, up to the sky.

Even staggers up on his feet and manages to get inside. Isak can hear him rummage around the apartment looking for his things, and cussing, and opening a bottle to take a drink. Then he can hear Even spit out a mouthful.

“Fucking grenadine!”

A bottle shatters. Isak can see it in his head, the clear shards sparkling in a pool of thick, sticky red. Beautiful. Grim.

Maybe he is sick.

The elevator doors slide closed so silently Even has to slam his fist on the elevator’s wall to make his point. Isak feels the blunt, metallic echo inside himself, like it vibrates through the building, along the floor and into his bones.

Isak doesn’t know how long he’s been lying there. He maybe fell asleep for a bit, maybe not. But he can’t stay here forever. He doesn’t want to stay here forever. It’s getting cold. Isak sits up slowly and crawls inside on all fours. He sees the messy remains of the grenadine bottle. The spilled salt.

The lime rinds scattered on the floor around the bar. Isak goes and picks one up. He pushes it in his mouth and bites down, letting the sour bitterness spread all over his tongue.


	13. Even

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fuck, I love this story. I hope you like it too.

Even’s head is still buzzing. When he left that cold corpse of a party he decided he needed one more drink, just to recover from his scare with Isak Valtersen’s Great Balancing Act. That one drink turned into like six, and Even found a really nice and funny group of girls out on a bachelorette night who ended up doing body shots from him on a bench in the park. Until the cops came and dismantled their group.

He should be tired. He’s not, not the least bit. Must be all the cocaine he’s done tonight. Must be. The alternative is too pathetic to consider. Besides, it doesn’t matter, because he’s not planning to go to sleep any time soon. He checked at the machine and his customer had paid him in full. He is loaded, and the shops are just about to open.

Even stops by the shop window and checks his reflection. Not too bad. He looks tired, and like he’s still drunk, but he doesn’t look too ragged or frightening. He looks like someone who has made a series of unfortunate choices for the past fourteen hours. He also looks loaded. The suit jacket helps. Even took it with him by mistake and will return it as soon as he gets around to it, but for now, it will make him look like someone important enough to not kick out of the store for being wasted.

When the girl comes to unlock the doors Even flashes her a smile he’s pretty sure isn’t too creepy. At least she smiles back at him. A general customer service smile, but that will do now. Even swaggers into the shop to have a little look-see. A little look. A little see.

He doesn’t bother looking at the price tags. He knows he can afford this. It’s just mass produced cheap fashion, but this is exactly the stuff Mikael likes to wear. Even has noticed the tiny holes in the shirts on his laundry duty. He will buy Mikael a full wardrobe of brand new shit, and then drop by at some better store to get him some brand name shit too.

Even exits the shop his hands full of bags. He spent about ten grand in this one place, but he has more. Mikael has earned this all. He should buy Eskild something as well, but first he needs to find out what Eskild wants or needs. The buzz in his head has changed its tone. It’s less drunk and hazy, more sharp and focused. He’s on a mission. A mission of charity and mercy, the noblest mission of them all.

Even walks around the shopping center, looking at windows. A Louis Vuitton fanny pack would be awesome, but when Even asks for one at the shop, he finds out they’ve run out of stock. He decides to place an order online as soon as he gets home and can charge his phone -- phone! Mikael’s screen is shattered. Where’s the iStore?

Three hours later Even runs out of steam and money. His arms are hurting from the weight of all the bags, and his feet are killing him. Time to go home. If he’s lucky he gets there before Mikael and can surprise him.

Nobody’s home when Even arrives. Good. He walks straight to Mikael’s door. He got to sit down in the tram, and can stand up again. Even knocks on the door with his foot, his hands are full of bags. No answer. He didn’t expect one, he saw Mikael’s shoes are gone. Even tries the handle. The door is not locked. Mikael trusts them, for good reason.

Even sneaks into Mikael’s room. It’s neatly in order, even the bed is made. Even drops the bags on the bed and pulls the closet doors open. He takes out the piles of clothes and the hangers too, dropping them all on the floor. He hums softly as he works, pulling the tags off the new clothes and folding them neatly in the closet.

Mikael is right. Even promised him more. It’s about time Mikael gets what is his.

When all the clothes are in the closet Even goes to get a trash bag from the kitchen. He shoves all Mikael’s old rags in it. Out with the old, in with the new. He leaves the iPhone box on the pillow, like a mint in a hotel room, and closes the door carefully behind him. He kisses his fingertips and presses them on the door.

While he’s at it, he goes through his own closet as well. Everything with holes or split seams gets to go. He fills up the bag, and when it’s full he swings it over his shoulder on his back. Eskild always nags at him and Mikael for not taking the trash out. He would not get to nag this time, oh no. No rain on this parade, Eskild.

Even drags the bag out to the bins and throws it in. He whistles while he walks back up. His good mood is keeping him from crashing from his buzz, which is nice, since they don’t have probably any alcohol in the house and he spent all his money on Mikael. All of it. That should make Mik happy, finally.

After taking off the suit jacket and cleaning it carefully of dirt and twigs (probably from the park?) Even hangs it on his closet’s door in plain sight. He needs to see it at all times or he will forget about it. He has to bring it back. Even takes the jacket from the cuffs and swings his hands slowly back and forth. He’s dancing with Isak Valtersen.

It’s obvious, if you stop to think about it, that the jacket smells only like Even and alcohol, maybe a park bench. But as Even grabs the hanger from behind, covering his chest with the suit, holding the cuff in his left hand, his feet swaying them both in a slow dance, he can smell Isak Valtersen. It makes his heart bump louder. He remembers the balcony, the terrifying empty space behind the man, how nonchalantly he leaned back into it. What a fucking dick.

The door rattles. Even drops the jacket, blushing. It feels like he’s getting caught. He’s not, not really, his room’s door is closed and whoever it is who’s coming home can’t see him yet anyway. Even bends over to pick the garment up. He hangs it back on the closet door. He must not forget.

Even presses his ear against the door. He can’t hear anything. So, it’s Mikael. Eskild would be singing along to the music in his earphones, and shaking his moneymaker. Mikael moves quietly like a little mouse. Even is nervous, all of a sudden. He can’t wait for Mikael to see his surprise. Maybe he will be so happy he’ll kiss Even? Even is too drunk to be kissed by Mikael, he would try to take it further.

He presses his hand in front of his mouth and breathes out. Does his breath smell? He has no idea. It must stink, he’s been drinking so much. Suddenly, for a brief moment, Even is ashamed of himself and his state. But that dissolves the second he can hear Mikael open his room’s door.

Silence.

Silence.

Even is holding his breath.

Mikael yanks his door open, making Even almost fall on him. He’s looking less excited than Even expected him to.

“What the fuck, Even?!”

Mikael is holding the iPhone. Even smiles at him, his brightest smile. He’s so proud of himself, of his unselfishness. He spent all his hard earned money on someone else.

“Surprise!” Even is still smiling. His smile is wavering a bit, though. Something is off.

“Where did you steal this from?”

Wait. What? Steal?

“I’m not a thief! Besides, stealing an iPhone would be super stupid! Can’t they be deactivated and tracked and shit?”

“This is a seventeen grand phone! Where did it come from?” Mikael is yelling. He looks worried, but he sounds angry. Even does not appreciate that. His top lip curls up a bit.

“I bought it for you! But since you don’t seem to like it I’ll just keep it myself!” Even grabs the box and tries to pry it off Mikael’s hand. In the hassle it slips and falls on the floor with a loud noise that sounds super bad. “Fuck! Look what you did!”

Mikael looks at him with ice cold eyes.

“Show me your box.”

Even steps back. His walls are up, just like that, impenetrable bricks.

“No.”

“Show it to me.”

“It’s private.”

Mikael kicks the phone into Even’s room.

“So is my bed! Nobody decides who gets in it except me!”

“That’s a fucking seventeen grand phone! Don’t kick it around!”

Mikael pushes his way past Even and dives for the box under Even’s bed. Even is too drunk, his reflexes aren’t fast enough. He tries to catch Mikael with the box, though, but Mik dashes back and forth across the room. Fuck, he is quick. Even runs out of wind well before he does.

“Don’t”, Even tries, his voice desperate.

Mikael doesn’t listen.

He opens the box. He rustles the sheets of pills and his lips move while he counts.

Even grabs the jacket from the hanger. He bends down and picks up the iPhone from the floor. He presses it tightly against his chest (the corners are so sharp and hard) and rushes out of his room.

Mikael runs after him. Even is stumbling, he is too upset and intoxicated to keep himself upright, he falls flat on his face and the box gets crushed under his sternum. It hurts so fucking much it pins Even down on the floor. He can’t get up. He can’t escape.

“Are you okay?” Mikael doesn’t sound angry anymore. Just worried. He squats by Even and nudges at his shoulder. Even groans to tell him he’s at least alive, and rolls on his back.

Mikael sits down beside him. He takes the box and rips the plastic open. He peeks inside the box.

“It’s just the box that’s busted. The phone seems okay.”

Even groans again. He can’t speak, that hurts too much. Mikael pulls his knees up against his chest and wraps his arms around his legs. The ceiling above them disappears. It turns into a sky, years ago, above a roof. It’s dyed pink and orange, the sun is setting.


	14. Isak

Isak Valtersen wakes up into a morning where no signs of last night are visible. The carpets are spotless, the lime rinds are gone, the cocaine has been dusted away and the bar has been refilled, all the while Isak himself slept. His dream didn’t rejuvenate him. He can still taste the bitterness of the lime in his mouth.

He’s not sure how he ended up in his bed, either. He is wearing only his underwear, so he must have undressed. None of his people are bold enough to do that for him. The last thing he can remember is biting down on that lime. The bitter, sour taste of the rind fills his mouth and he rushes to the bathroom. Even the richest man in the country has to kneel in front of the toilet seat if he wants to vomit in it, and that’s what Isak does now. He kneels. He throws up.

Isak decides to wash his mouth with some scotch. He drinks it straight from the bottle, and wipes the grimace off his lips with the side of his thumb. That’s much better. So much better. Isak takes the bottle with him and staggers to the balcony. He stands against the morning, almost naked, and brings the bottle to his lips again. He could buy everything he’s looking at right now.

But there are things he wants that he can’t see from here.

So, he turns back inside. He finds his phone. No missed calls, no messages, like always. He is the epitome of  _ don’t call us, we’ll call you. _ And he never calls anyone. Now might be a good time to make an exception. To get some perspective. He pulls up the number and raises the phone to his ear.

“Isak? Is it really you?” Eva’s voice sounds the same. Or maybe it doesn’t. Isak can’t tell for sure, it’s been so long and he hasn’t spent too much time reminiscing.

“Yeah.” Does he still sound the same? He doesn’t know that either. “It’s me. Hi.”

“Oh my god! It’s been forever! It’s been like --”

“Six years”, Isak interrupts. “Time flies, right?”

Isak takes a swig from the bottle. The scotch warms his belly up from the inside, and that warmth spreads throughout his body. It balances out the coldness at the back of his neck, provoked by Eva’s voice, rather nicely.

“Six years. Wow. How have you been?”

Isak is so done with small talk. The scotch burns his throat and the memory of last night burns his brain.

“Have you heard from Jonas?”

Eva’s silent for a while. Isak can imagine her pursing her lips. He takes the opportunity to fetch himself a glass and pour a proper drink during the silence.

“You mean the guy who broke my heart on my eighteenth birthday?”

Isak wanted to tell her Jonas broke his heart on the same day. But he couldn’t. He just took a sip from his glass.

“Yes. That guy.”

“Not ever since that, no. Good riddance, if you ask me. That guy was nothing but trouble.” Eva’s voice has cooled off. Isak can feel the tips of the icicles scrape at his skin. “I mean. If I ever find out who ruined my life when I was eighteen, I should probably thank them.”

Isak holds back a sigh.

“Oh?”

“Well, yes. Without them I might have married that cheating bastard. All he really loved about me was my money, after all.”

“He loved you”, Isak says, unable to stop himself. “He was just a stupid kid. Kids make mistakes.”

“You know what?” Eva pauses again. Isak hears her say something to someone, but can’t make out the words. She has probably covered the mic with her hand. “I kind of wish he never loved me. Makes it easier, somehow.”

Now Isak can hear who she is talking to. A child. A little girl or boy, eager to show something to their mommy.

“Sounds like you have your hands full”, Isak says, forcing a smile on his lips. “Congratulations.”

“Thanks. She turns three this year, just before Christmas.”

“I won’t hold you longer. I just wanted to ask had you heard from him.”

“Why, though? Has he contacted you?”

“Now and then during the years. But you know how it goes. He’s not from this world.” Isak is looking at the bottom of his glass. He’s seeing it way too clearly. Needs more scotch.

“Yeah. Hang on.” Something rustles. Eva probably picks her child up. The girl’s voice is clearer now, louder. Closer. “We should arrange something sometime. You could come by our beach house in the summer.”

They both know Isak will never come by. That’s probably why Eva invites him there.

“Sounds great. Let’s make plans later.”

“Let’s. I must go now. Thanks for calling, it was good to hear from you.” Lies, lies, dropped from flawlessly smiling lips.

“You too. Bye.” Isak hangs up. He shoves the phone under the waistband of his underwear and pours himself another one.

Hearing Eva’s voice brings it all back to him. Isak sinks in his armchair and watches the past display itself like a movie. They were here, in this very room, the bar was open and there were balloons and ribbons everywhere. Banners. Happy Trust Fund Day Eva, they read. Champagne was flowing and the music was blasting, and everyone was there. Noora. Chris. Sana. Vilde. Jonas. And of course Isak, the gracious host, and Eva, the birthday girl.

Isak digs out his phone and turns on the playlist for that party. He hasn’t erased it. The music fills the room up, and Isak can see the girls jumping up and down, singing their hearts out. They were so young, so vibrant, full of life and promise. When they were eighteen they were invincible. Immortal. Everlasting.

Jonas was sitting with Isak, watching the girls. He was talking about the game on the night before, but Isak hadn’t heard a word he had been saying. All he could hear was Jonas’ voice. He had positioned himself so that he could see Jonas’ profile while he was pretending to look past it.

The song starts playing, here in Isak’s private party and back in the day. Everyone groaned but they kept dancing. Fem Fina Fröknar was the annoying hit that was played everywhere ad nauseum, but that made it the perfect party tune. It gave everyone something to hate together, while providing excellent beats to dance to.

As the second chorus begins Isak can hear glass breaking. It was Chris, who dropped her champagne, and as she tried to clean up the mess she cut her finger. Noora and Vilde rushed her in the bathroom to be cleaned up, and Isak was left alone with Jonas and Eva.

Isak closes his eyes. He can still smell Jonas. He had put on extra aftershave that night, and he looked really nice in the suit Isak had borrowed him. It was a bit too tight and a tad too long for him, but he carried it with confidence. Jonas took a flower from the arrangement and slipped it behind Eva’s ear, and that moment Eva’s phone beeped. She kissed Jonas with one eye open to peek at the screen, and there she saw it.

Someone had tagged her in a picture of Jonas kissing someone else. Some other girl. And on that same post were more pictures of him at that, with the same girl, night after night. She shoved Jonas away from her, screaming and crying, and in the heat of the fight neither of them noticed Isak slipping his phone in his breast pocket.

Isak opens the picture folder. He flips through the pictures with his thumb, absentmindedly. Jonas looks so happy in them. He looks so young. They were so young, fuck, they were just kids.

Kids make mistakes.


	15. Even

It takes a while, but the room stops spinning. The ceiling is just a ceiling again, and the universe feels smaller -- or, more precisely, Even feels bigger. Less insignificant. He isn’t disappearing into the vastness of sunsets and stars and space, he is here, on his back on the living room floor, with Mikael beside him. Mikael has taken the phone out of the box and is fiddling with it, feeling it in his hands.

It feels super nice, Even knows it. He tested one at the store. It feels like a seventeen grand phone. And now Mikael has one.

“Please use it. Don’t sell it. I bought it for you and if you need more money I can go make some.”

Mikael doesn’t say anything. He is looking at his image, reflected on the black screen.

“How?” Mikael asks, whispering. Even shrugs. Or, more like rubs his shoulder on the floor.

“The same way I always make money.”

Mikael keeps looking at himself. Even can’t blame him, Mik is a beautiful boy. Like a dark angel. He sits quietly for a long while, giving Even plenty of time to observe his beauty. Bless him.

“What is it like?”

Even can barely hear Mikael’s question. He’s pretty sure he didn’t hear it right.

“Excuse me?”

Mikael puts the phone away and hugs his legs tighter. He is leaning his chin on his knees and staring into the distance. Maybe at a sunset over rooftops years ago.

“To. Do things with people. For profit.”

Even sits up, offended. Did Mikael just call him a whore?

“I’m not a prostitute, Mik.”

Mikael moved his shoulder, the tiniest bit.

“Whatever you are, you have had sex with people for money, haven’t you?”

Fuck. Fucking fucking fuck.

“Yes.” Even more forms the word with his lips than actually says it. He doesn’t know if Mikael sees it or not, but the absence of a  _ no _ is enough. They both know the answer.

“So.” Mikael picks at his fingertips, pulling out narrow strands of skin around his nails. “What is it like?”

“You have had sex. You know what it’s like.”

“You don’t look like it’s just normal sex.”

Mikael is right. It’s not just normal sex. Even knows it, he just doesn’t think about it, because if he’d think about it he maybe couldn’t do it, and it pays so much better than just escort services.

“I don’t know”, Even finally says. Because he doesn’t. He has no idea how it’s like. “I’m not usually sober those times. And I don’t especially try to assess my feelings, or remember much.”

Mikael doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t have to. All he needs to do is to wait for Even to gather up his courage for the both of them.

“Why do you ask?”

Silence. Even leans back on his palms and looks into the distance.

“Do you need money? I mean it, I can make some.”

“I’m failing my classes.”

Even blinks, confused. He stares at Mikael with his mouth open. What Mikael just said isn’t possible. Why is he lying?

“What?”

“Math is hard! Okay?” Mikael snaps. But he doesn’t sound angry. He sounds scared.

“But. You’re super good at math. And you have a new calculator to help you.”

Even knows he’s sounding stupid. But Mikael isn’t making any sense, either. How can he be failing his classes after studying so hard?

“Being good doesn’t cut it at the university, Evy.” Mikael sighs. He keeps picking at his fingers, and Even notices he barely has any skin left around his nails. He feels a sudden urge to grab those hands and kiss the fingertips better, but he doesn’t.

“You don’t have to blow your professors to pass your classes, Mik. You’re the smartest person I know.”

“You should get to know more people, then.” Mikael sighs. He looks at Even, just a frightened little glance. Still it’s enough to break Even’s heart.

“I’ll do it,” he says, without even thinking about it. Mikael frowns. “I’ll blow your professor so he’ll let you pass.”

“Even. No.”

Even grabs Mikael’s hand. Mikael pulls it away.

“You’re right. I promised you more. I’m worthless at most things but this is something I know I can do. I give great head.”

“I said no! God, why don’t you ever listen?” Mikael stands up and walks away. He takes the phone with him, as a reflex, like he’s seeing it as his. That’s good.

“But Mik, you can’t fail your classes! What will we do then?”

Mikael turns to look at Even. Even stands up, he’s feeling too small when Mikael looks down at him like that.

“We?”

“Me and Eskild. You’re our normality! One of us is a stripper nurse and the other one is a fucking rentboy, we need you to be a proper person! If we’re not doing all this, if we’re not dealing with our shit lives for you, so that you can study and become something real, why are we doing it, then?” Even runs out of breath during his rant, wheezing the last couple of words. Seeing Mikael’s face makes him wish he could inhale all of his words, to unspeak them.

Mikael doesn’t say anything. He obviously is the smart one. He just turns around and walks into his room, and closes the door. Even hears the lock click. He falls on his back on the couch, grimaces and digs out an empty beer bottle from between the cushions. It spins around on the floor when he drops it.

Fuck.

Even wakes up when Mikael’s door slams against the wall.

“What the fuck Even?!”

It takes Even a moment to get back to the reality. He was having a dream where he was walking on rooftops, constantly about to trip and fall, and his heart is still racing. All the cocaine he did last night might have an effect on that, too.

Mikael is absolutely fuming. He’s holding a bunch of clothes, and Even rememberes. The new outfits Mikael is definitely going to rock.

“I got you new clothes. Brand new. Nobody’s ever worn them before you, I made them go to the back to get stuff nobody’s even tried on.”

“Where are my clothes?”

“They’re all yours. I got them for you.”

Mikael sighs. He scrunches the clothes against his chest and just breaths in and out a couple of times.

“Where are my old clothes?”

“In the trash.”

“You did not.”

Even doesn’t know what to say. He’s squirming a bit. Mikael doesn’t seem to appreciate it that Even spent all his money on him, and to be honest, that is starting to piss him off.

“I did! They were worn out and had holes in them and I took it all outside and threw it in the trash  _ because I got you new ones. _ You’re fucking welcome!”

“Even, my closet is full now. What did you have to do to get that kind of money?”

Even shrugs. He knows nothing he can tell Mikael will satisfy or please him.

“Body shots.”

“Does your belly button turn water into tequila or something?”

“If it did, I wouldn’t be doing body shots for a living. I don’t know what I can tell you, Isak Valtersen has so much money he can pay ridiculous amounts for miniscule things, and he’s so fucked up he actually pays those amounts to me. We haven’t even kissed, let alone anything more.”

Mikael sighs.

“I hope you understand that doesn’t sound believable.”

Even lowers his eyes. He knows, it’s hard to believe. He wants to tell Mikael about his first gig for Isak Valtersen, about the party, how he still can’t think about it without his chest shrinking, but he doesn’t. He’s a professional.

“Please don’t tell Eskild about him.” Eskild wouldn’t understand. He’d get into his preachy mode again, lecturing Even about him enabling some rich bastard to wallow in his homophobia or something.

“Is there something to tell?”

“I’m not a hooker”, Even says, quietly. “I just wanted to give you nice things.”

“Even.” Mikael is almost whispering. His voice is thin and cracked. It makes Even look at him. “I don’t deserve this. I’m not who you think I am. Who you need me to be.”

“What? Of course you are! You’re a real student, you’re just having some difficulties right now.”

Mikael looks at him for a moment. He looks super sad.

“You know, I’m so mad at you right now? I’m so mad because you threw away my clothes that I could snap your fucking neck. But I can’t. All the pills I’m taking..I don’t really feel anymore.” For someone who doesn’t really feel anymore Mikael sure is crying a lot. But when Even really looks at him he sees that Mikael’s not really crying, tears are simply running down his face. “I haven’t felt anything in ages.”

“That’s what my pills do too!” Even is almost excited at this new way to bond with Mikael. They don’t have too much in common anymore, not with Mikael’s academic career, but this is something he knows. “That’s why I don’t take them. You shouldn’t take yours, either.”

“Even.”

If Mikael says something else, Even doesn’t hear him. He is getting excited. He was in a slump moments ago, but now he has a plan. Everything will be okay, he will fix this.

“We’ll do study groups! Eskild hides all the alcohol and all the pills, and then we will study math! Well, I’ll be rubbish at it, but you can study and then explain things to me, doesn’t teaching others help you learn best anyway?”

Even stands up and starts gathering the empty bottles in his hands. There are too many of them, Eskild lived up to his threat of not cleaning up the party, and Even himself has been too busy, and Mikael apparently too high, but that stops here. That stops now! Welcome, new and cleaner life!

“You know, this is what we both need. An intervention. A fresh start! You’ll get back to school and studying and I’ll get my head sorted out and back to doing art.” Ideas are popping in Even’s head as he speaks, they are fluttering around him like flies, he tries to catch one but it slips through his fingers. He’ll catch it later, when he’s not busy holding empty bottles that keep falling off almost faster than he can gather them.

“EVEN!”

Even stops. Mikael’s scream cut everything and now the silence is deafening. It gets broken by a bottle falling to the floor and rolling under the couch. Even follows it with his eyes, it’s easier than to look at Mikael right now. If Even had ears like a dog they’d be pressed tightly against his head.

“Please. Don’t do this. Not again.”

Even drops all the bottles he’s holding. At least one of them shatters. Even steps over the mess and goes get his phone from his room. He sees the jacket hanging on the closet’s door, grabs it and pulls it on as he walks out of the apartment. He reaches the street before he notices he forgot to put shoes on.

He’s not going back up.

He can’t.

Mikael doesn’t know shit.

Even calls a cab. When the car pulls up to the curb he hops into it with two hasty steps. The driver doesn’t seem to notice his lack of shoes. Good. Even gives the man the address and leans his temple on the window as the car enters the traffic.


	16. Isak

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So nervous about this chapter! I hope it makes sense and isn't too rushed, I really can't tell anymore.

It’s surprisingly easy to hide who you are when you’re somewhere nobody expects to see you. Isak Valtersen should be recognisable enough to be spotted anywhere, but here, in the stench of the smoke machine and cheap alcohol, in the flash of the neon lights, in the thudding bass and writhing mass of semi naked bodies, he could be anybody.

The outfit helps, too. No well fitting suit, but a pair of skinny jeans, a T-shirt and a hoodie, topped with an old jacket Jonas forgot when he stormed out of Isak’s life. The cut of the bomber jacket hides him in plain sight with its sheer volume of mundane. He looks out of place, insecure and uncomfortable: all qualities that nobody connects to the rich playboy he is known as.

He glances at the bar. It looks decent enough, but the bottles on the wall are mostly inferior stuff. One look at the dance floor helps Isak make up his mind, though, and he flashes a couple of bills at the barkeep. He orders a shot of his best tequila and downs it without really tasting it. He doesn’t taste the second one any more than the first one, but the third one makes him hiss a bit. Vile, vile.

Isak sneaks further in. He passes a fellow in leather chaps and a leather cap and some sort of speedo, his tongue deep in the tonsils of a guy who is wearing more glitter than actual clothes. Isak shakes his head, barely, just for himself. He shouldn’t have come here. This is not his place.

He could buy this place and not notice it.

He could buy all these people.

He will settle for one, for now. Isak lets his eyes wander over the stages and the cages, and when he sees a face that’s not unearthly beautiful stuck on a body that’s slightly but not that much above average he makes his pick.

The private room is disgusting. It’s dark, shabby and stuffy. The couch is vinyl, and Isak can see it’s been wiped clean recently. He sits down on the arm rest and crosses his arms over his chest, waiting for his order to arrive. The door opens. The stripper steps in. He is smiling, and he is sparkly, he has flakes of glitter around his eyes and a friendly, flirty smile on his lips.

“Hi, sugar. Thanks for picking me.”

Isak half shrugs, half grunts. He licks his lips quickly.

“I trust this is confidential.”

The stripper raises his brows.

“Of course, honey. A strip joint that’s not discreet will run out of business quickly.”

“Are there cameras in this room?”

The stripper glances above the door. Isak looks up there too and sees the red dot of light.

“They’re here only for protection.”

Isak huffs.

“I’m not going to hurt you.”

The sparkly blonde thing laughs, briefly.

“I wish. They’re not for my protection. I’m embarrassed to say that some of my colleagues haven’t been too -- well, honest. Especially with bad tippers.”

Isak leans back a bit. He’s sort of impressed by the spunk of this one.

“Do I look like a bad tipper?”

“That remains to be seen. Shall we begin?”

“What’s your name?” Isak doesn’t really care, but given how intimate this interaction is about to get, he’d like to know at least that much about this man. His tacky fake name.

“Eskild. Want to tell me yours?”

Isak blink. He didn’t expect a proper name. He expected something like Cherry, or Candy, Sparkle -- but no. Eskild. He is caught by suprising honesty, and can't come up with anything fake.

“No.”

Eskild nods. If he recognises Isak, he doesn’t let it show. A real professional, smiling his professional, fake but friendly smile.

“Do you have a song request?”

Isak stares at Eskild, confused. He can pick a song?

He knows exactly which one.

“Do you have Gabrielle?”

By the first chorus Eskild has already lost his shirt. It’s nothing Isak hasn’t seen before, but now, up close, just for him, it looks different. Isak’s mouth feels dry. His pulse is faster. Eskild may not look like too much, but he sure can work what he has. Isak can’t turn his eyes away from that flat chest, except when Eskild runs his hands down his sides and over his waistband. Isak follows his fingers with his eyes, and he feels something stir inside him.

This is so absurd.

He is in a strip joint. He has paid for a guy to take his clothes off for him. And he’s sort of liking it.

Isak slumps into the couch. He pulls his legs up against his chest. He feels like he’s just a fucking teenager again. The tequila is still warming him up from the inside, but as Eskild moves closer, swaying his hips, as Gabrielle sings, Isak is less and less able to deny he is warming up for other reasons as well.

Eskild’s stomach is right in front of his face. He can probably feel Isak’s breath on his skin. Or could, if it didn’t catch in his throat.

“Stop.”

Isak’s whisper has no sound. He can’t feel his body, so he can’t move it.

“Please. Stop.”

Maybe Eskild hears him, or maybe he’s just observant, or a professional, but he stops. He steps back and turns the music’s volume lower, and the magic disappears. Isak is back in control of his own body, and almost in control of his thoughts.

“Are you nauseus?”

Isak shakes his head. That’s a lie, but that’s not what Eskild wants to know. He looks genuinely worried, and wholeheartedly kind, and Isak is on the brink of breaking. Eskild sits down on the edge of the couch and places his hand on Isak’s. Isak yanks his hand away.

“I’m not like you.”

Eskild raises his sparkly brows.

“Excuse me?”

Isak waves his hand in the air, circling Eskild’s face and his body.

“This. This is not me.”

Now Eskild is frowning. He leans back a bit.

“Excuse me?”

That’s an attitude Isak didn’t expect from a stripper. The sugar and honey are gone now, and the sap in Eskild’s voice has turned into bile. It’s making Isak’s attitude sour as well. His top lip curl up a bit.

“All this sparkle and assless chaps and shitting rainbows. All the gay pride shit. I’m not like that. And I don’t want to be, either.”

Eskild leans back, raising his arm on the back of the couch. He crosses his legs, twirling his ankle.

“A stripper is cheaper than a shrink, huh?”

“Fuck you!” Isak spits. Then he remembers his manners. “I can afford a shrink. But that’s not what I’m looking for.”

“Right.  _ Sure. _ What are you looking for, then?”

Isak stands up. He can’t look at Eskild now. He’s so happy there aren't any windows in this room, or mirrors, nothing where Isak can see himself in. He couldn’t do this if he saw himself. The distant whiff of the smoke machines turn into incense in his head. Breathe in the divine, breathe out the wicked. Isak closes his eyes and holds his breath, ready to have his head pressed under water.

“Hello?” Eskild’s voice makes Isak open his eyes again. And remember his question.

What is he looking for?

“I just can’t be like you. It’s too much. All the parades and pride and rubbing your sex life in people’s face. It’s  _ wrong. _ I don’t want to be associated with people like that.”

Eskild stands up and struts past Isak to the door. Then he stops, his hand on the handle, and turns to look at Isak.

“You’re talking about people who were killed for standing up and being who they are.” Eskild is speaking quietly, but clearly, Isak can make out every single word. “People who have rather died, beaten to death, than pretend to be something they’re not. People who have lost everything they had, their families, their parents, their children, people who have chosen to be true. Courageous people. People willing to fight for not only what they believe in but for what is right.”

Eskild’s voice cracks. Isak can’t really look at him.

“I would rather be associated with any of them than with you, mister Valtersen. Get your refund at the bar.”

The door opens and closes. Isak counts to hundred in his head to make sure he won’t run into Eskild on his way out. When he leaves the room he heads straight for the door, as quickly as he can.


	17. Even

Even hops out of the cab. He forgot he doesn’t have any money, and the driver took his phone as payment for the ride. After fifteen minutes of organizing his accounts and linking everything to his email Even erased the phone clean and handed the phone over. Now he has no shoes, no money, no phone and no dignity, and with all this nothing he tries to get an appointment with Isak Valtersen.

It doesn’t go too well. The guy in the lobby takes one look at him and decides he’s trash. He’s not too far off, to be honest, but Even’s choices are now quite limited.

“Please. Just let him know I’m here, that’s all.”

The man looks down at him, and that’s not easy, since he reaches Even barely around shoulders. He looks like he’s seen enough of scum and creeps for the rest of the year, with the visits from Even and Jonas and who knows who else.

“Mister Valtersen is out, sir.”

Even deflates. He steps back. The stone floor feels cold and hard under his feet. He got his socks a bit wet when he hopped here from the taxi, so he has to be careful he won’t slip.

“I’ll wait.”

“Sir, I’d rather you don’t.”

“Tough.” It’s wet and cold outside, the streets are covered in icy slush, and Even simply can’t leave even if he wanted to. And without his phone, he can’t even call Eskild to come and fetch him. Besides, Eskild is working.

So, he is stuck here.

Fucking Mikael. This is all his fault. Prying into Even’s business like that. Not appreciating the gifts Even gave him. How much can one high maintenance bitch need? Even walks to the wall and slides his back down along it. He doesn’t bend his legs. He has the right to take space.

_ Not again. _

Fuck you too, Mik.

Fucking stupid skank. Pretending to be so smart and clever. Perhaps he’s not as good as he thought he was, huh? University is actual work. Even knows it is, he dropped out during the first semester, while Mikael kept going and passing and making something of himself while Even started escort work and Eskild became a stripper.

But Mikael is not making something of himself now is he? High all the time. Failing his classes. Maybe he should blow his professors, that’d teach him something about life. Even lets the image pass his mind, Mikael on his knees behind some desk, his bitching mouth full of academic dick. He can’t linger on that thought because it’s kind of making him horny, and mister Doorman McStuffed-Uppiton wouldn’t like it if Even started bulging in his precious lobby.

It also feels weird to get turned on by Mikael. They grew up together, in the same shitty apartment building, and while Mikael is the first boy Even ever kissed that’s all he is. One kiss. One kiss that was so far from perfect it’s almost funny. All Even remembers about it is how panicked he was, terrified that he had now ruined everything, destroyed them, and how Mikael would laugh in his face for imagining he had any right to kiss him. But Mikael didn’t laugh. He kissed Even back, and then it was over, someone came to get Mikael and they never talked about it again.

Even was a fucking mess that night, and the next morning. He still is a fucking mess. He wiggles his wet, cold toes. He goes through his pockets that aren’t really even his, and finds nothing. All he can do is sit here and wait for a man to come so he can ask that man to give him money for his company.

What the fuck was he thinking, coming here?

Shoes, mostly. He needs shoes, and he has no money, so he came here to beg.

Because he might be stupid and worthless, but he knows how to make money.

Hours later Even’s feet are dry but he isn’t feeling any better. Not worse, either. Basically he’s not really feeling at all, he’s just sitting there, taking up space, watching empty, pointless thoughts drift by like clouds in the sky. He’s nobody, and he has nothing, and that’s exactly how Isak Valtersen finds him when he steps in through the door.

“What the fuck?”

Even turns to look at him. He looks weird. Shaken, to the core. A bit like Even is feeling, or would be, if he wasn’t too tired to feel.

“Can I come up for a moment?”

Isak Valtersen looks at Even’s feet.

“Where are your shoes?”

“Home. It’s complicated. Please, five minutes.”

“Okay. Go.”

Even looks at the doorman.

“Not here.”

Isak Valtersen looks over his shoulder, surprised, like he forgot he has a doorman.

“Right. Right. Fine.”

Even gets up and follows his host to the elevator. They don’t say a word all the way up. Even might be imagining things, but Isak Valtersen seems to be glancing at him repeatedly, from the corner of his eye. He’s probably imagining things.

They step out of the elevator and Even goes straight for the scotch.

“Do you mind?” Even asks.

“Not at all.”

“Shall I pour you one too?”

“I’m fine.”

Even fills his glass with the amber bliss. All the way to the brim. He spills some on his fingers when he brings it to his lips, and after the first greedy gulps he licks his fingers clean. When he raises his eyes to the window he sees their reflections on the glass, and he sees he’s being stared at.

He’s so going to make some money now.

Even pulls up a smile and turns around.

“That’s so much better. Thank you.”

Isak Valtersen turns his eyes away, quickly. The tips of his ears are red.

“Your five minutes start now.”

Fuck, Even is on a schedule. But the basework has been laid out earlier, right?

“I accidentally stole this jacket.” Even squirms out of the suit jacket, which is surprisingly tricky when you’re holding a full glass of scotch at the same time. But if Even knows how to do something, it’s how to undress. Soon enough he is handing the jacket over. “Thanks for borrowing it, mister Valtersen.”

Mister Valtersen almost flinches.

“Please, call me Isak. And you could have left this at the doorman.”

“Well, yes. But I don’t think his shoes are my size.” Even looks Isak in the eye while taking a sip from his glass. It makes Isak turn his eyes away, and the redness spread down over his ears.

“I see.”

They are quiet for a moment. The moment stretches, the unspoken words hang in the air between them. Even sips his drink. Then he sips it again. Then he empties the glass, and lets the warmth spread out from his belly. Just say the words. Do what you do.

“So, Isak.” Even speaks softly, letting the man’s name roll over his tongue. “Is there some arrangement we could come up with?”

Isak still can’t look at Even. Every time he tries to, he blushes more and turns his eyes away.

“An arrangement?”

“Well, I am for sale. And you know my rate.” For some reason it’s almost hard to say those words. There shouldn’t be any reason for that, because they are true, and they both know it.

“Ten grand. For anything.”

Even curves his lips into a smile. A party boy smile, an equal measure of filth, enthusiasm and encouragement. It doesn’t have to be real to be stunning. Even leans his hand on the corner of the table and runs his other hand along the curve of his body.

“The whole package. A real bargain, if you ask me.”

Silence, again. Even isn’t too fond of silences right now, they give him too much time to think about what’s going on. What he’s offering, and what he’s worth.

Finally Isak starts moving. He walks past Even to the elevator.

“I’ll go fetch the cash.”

The moment the elevator doors pull closed the smile drops off Even’s lips. He goes to pour himself another drink. He empties the glass while staring at his image in the window. He can see the lights of the city shine through it.


	18. Isak

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the treats for previous ch! Here, have some nude scenes!
> 
> CW: religion themed homophobia

Power corrupts. Absolute power corrupts absolutely. Isak steps out of the vault, holding ten grand in cash, and feels the weight of the bills in his hands. It feels like nothing. He is going to pay nothing to have absolute power over a person he really, really shouldn’t be having any power over. The tequila isn’t warming him up anymore, it’s just dulling everything, like a thick blanket pulled over Isak’s head. He needs to get sharper or he is going to waste this opportunity completely.

Isak turns back and goes to his stash. He picks up a bottle of pills and shakes two out on his palm, hesitates for a moment and then slips one of them back. He’ll take just one. If he takes too much he becomes what Jonas described as a bitchy cunt.

Thinking about Jonas doesn’t feel dull at all. The pain that cuts Isak’s heart in half is sudden and sharp, so sharp it doesn’t almost even hurt until afterwards. Isak shoves the pill back in the bottle and tries to close it so hard he drops it. The pills rattle all over the floor.

“Fuck”, Isak hisses. But the adrenaline shot does the trick. He sharpens up. His brain gets working again, and he feels in charge of things. Finding Even at his door like a beaten up stray puppy pushed him off balance, but now he is back. He wipes his mouth with his palm and enters the elevator.

When he steps out he first doesn’t see Even. Then he turns to look at his desk and there he is, in his underwear, spread over the table like a feast. His back slightly arched, his face turned torwards Isak, his lips smiling. He looks like a false god, if Isak’s ever seen one.

“Want to do a line from my chest?”

Isak feels the righteous wrath rise inside him. How dare that -- that --  _ harlot  _ come here to tempt him like that? Isak doesn’t want to, but he looks at the body, on display for him, and he likes what he’s seeing all too much. He places the money on the table next to Even’s head.

“You’re filthy.”

Even smiles wider. Sluttier.

“I should hope so.”

“I mean literally. Is that grenadine?”

Even looks down his body, touches the stain on his upper abdomen and frowns.

“Mmmaybe?”

Isak sighs. The lights are hurting his eyes in here, they’re too bright. He could use a cleanse himself.

“Get up. You need a shower.”

Isak walks to the bathroom and turns the lights on. He presses the buttons on the wall panel and sets the lighting into a dim, calming, greenish and blueish hue. He turns on the special effect that makes the light ripple on the walls, making the whole bathroom seem like it’s under water. He adjusts the scent diffuser so it makes the air smell and taste like the ocean. Salty. Gentle. Eternal.

Even whistles when he steps in and looks around.

“Wow. This is like the Disneyland of bathrooms.”

Isak shrugs.

“I like bathing.”

“In this place? I can’t blame you.” Even walks further in, and as the light hits his pale skin he looks like a divine creature. Otherworldly. Isak can’t stop staring at him. His long limbs that flow through the air as he moves around, touching everything. His shoulders, his thighs, his -- fuck, that underwear looks filthy.

Isak starts undressing before he remembers he has no need to. But it’s too late to stop now. It would be super awkward and weird to first undress and then get dressed up again. So, Isak peels off his hoodie, his shirt and his skinny jeans, before he has to stop again. He really didn’t think this through, did he?

“Can I touch you?”

Even’s voice speaking right behind Isak makes him jump and spin around. Big mistake. Even is standing right in front of him, in his filthy glory, his skin sticky like a flytrap.

“Fuck no!” Isak spits, just to get strength to step past Even. He needs the adrenaline, he needs his wrath, so he can function at all. He repeats the words in the back of his head, the words he knows by heart. I shall condem all that is evil, I shall purge your spirit of wickedness.

Isak decides to keep his underwear on. That feels safer. It feels also fucking stupid, but stupid and safe is better than unsafe and anything. Isak steps under the rain shower and turns it on, and as the freezing cold droplets hit his skin he jumps back. Fuck.  _ Fuck. _ He forgot the last time he stood under this thing.

“Are you okay?” Even asks, once again way too close to him. That guy is a fucking ninja! Sneaking around, always right behind Isak’s back.

“I’m fine”, Isak hisses, and steps under the cold rain. He glenches his jaw so his teeth don’t clatter. As soon as Even turns away he will readjust the temperature. He can take this. “Pick a shower and get cleaned up, you’re making the floors sticky.”

Even giggles. It sounds adorable, and bubbly, and completely rehearsed.

“I thought you liked me filthy.”

Isak closes his eyes and raises his face up against the falling droplets of water. He doesn’t bother replying to Even. But when he hears the water of the regular shower starting to flow and then splatter as someone steps under the stream, he turns around to see.

Even is naked.

Isak’s head stops working. All he can do is stare. Even looks absent minded, letting the water flush over his body, washing away all the muck and grease and sugar away with it. It’s like Even is alone in the bathroom, completely focused on himself now, and that lets Isak take a really good, long look at him.

His eyes slide along Even’s long arms, up to his shoulders, then down again, the waterslide of the collarbones. The bubbly, lively stream down his chest and stomach, all the way down to his. His. Isak hasn’t a word for it now, now that it belongs to someone else. But he calls his own his dick, so..yes. That’s Even’s dick. And Isak is too drunk, considering how close to it he is right now.

“Isak?” Even sounds like this isn’t the first time he’s called Isak’s name. Isak looks up, horrified. Even is looking at him, and he looks worried. “Are you cold?”

Isak’s teeth are clattering. He is shivering all over, and he can barely feel his skin. Fuck. He tries to turn the water off, but his hand is shaking and his wet fingers are slipping.

Even’s hand is big enough to cover Isak’s hand completely. It closes around his hand and turns the water off. Isak can feel Even’s body, how warm it is, almost touching his, and he can’t think. He wants this so much. He needs something he has only foul names for.

He can feel Even’s hot breath at the back of his neck.

“How does it feel? To be poor.”

Even freezes. Good. Then he steps back. Excellent.

“Excuse me?”

Isak doesn’t turn around.

“I have paid you in full. You must be truthful.”

Isak is so cold. Even has stepped back, but Isak can still feel the warmth radiating from his body.

“So, tell me. How does it feel to be so poor that you must sell yourself for shoes.” Isak recognises the voice that is speaking, but it isn’t his. It’s from years ago, an echo, and he is a vessel for it. A cymbal of brass. His heart is clashing in his chest.

Even steps back again. Isak can’t feel his warmth anymore. He can’t hear him, either, Even is so quiet it’s like he’s not here anymore.

He does move quietly.

Maybe he has left.

Isak turns around. Even is still there, naked, dripping water, his hair clinging to his face over his eyes. His lips slightly parted. The magical, underwater light dancing on his skin. Isak has never seen anything so beautiful and so ethereal, barely tangible. He is looking at an image, not a person, at a dream, not a possibility.

“Fuck you.” The image speaks and the illusion is shattered. Even is now Even again, and he is angry. Offended. Hurt. His voice is shaking, and his eyes are frightened. He knows he has gone too far, he knows he has nothing and that Isak can kick him out at any time.

Power corrupts absolutely.

“Get on your knees.”


	19. Even

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For all the lovely treats I got today, have a double update! Love you!
> 
> cw: slurs

Finally this party is getting started.

Even smiles, as pretty as he can, as he lowers himself down on the cold, wet tiles. He stands on his knees in front of his temporary owner, ready to be played with. A trinket. A cheap toy from the market that you fiddle with for an afternoon and then forget somewhere, or throw it out, or it breaks. This is a game Even knows and has mastered, and he must say Isak Valtersen in his wet underwear is a steaming hot sight indeed.

This will be fun.

Mostly.

Even’s eyes keep wandering around the wet underwear that’s clinging over something that looks really yummy. He can hardly wait to taste it.

Isak stretches out his hand. He buries his fingers in Even’s wet hair and grabs it. Even lets him do that, he bends his neck where that hand guides him, and all the while he keeps looking as pretty and tempting as he possibly can. His lips slightly cracked, his eyes wide and wet.

“Whore”, Isak whispers. The word stings a bit, but it lacks bite. It sounds like it’s not really directed at him. Isak’s heart isn’t in it.

“Yes”, Even replies, quietly. He is a whore, Isak has bought him and here he is, at his service. A rentboy. Isak leans in closer, his jaw clenched. He squeezes Even’s hair harder.

“Faggot.”

Even closes his eyes for a moment. He bites the inside of his cheek to keep his face straight. He doesn’t know what this is, but this isn’t something to laugh at.

“Yes.”

Isak twists Even’s face up and shakes him a bit. Even opens his eyes. The man above him doesn’t look like all other men have. He looks desperate.

“Wicked tainted polluted worthless piece of shit!” Isak’s voice cracks. His legs are shaking. Even raises his hand up on his cheek.

“Hey. Hey.” Isak looks at him. His eyes are dark pools of water. Even slips his hand behind his neck and pulls down, firmly and gently, he pulls Isak Valtersen down on his knees and wraps his arms around him. “You’re ice cold.”

Isak is shaking. His skin is like ice. The coldness seems to run deep into the flesh as well. Even’s fingers must almost burn him.

“Come on. Come with me.” Even keeps mumbling at Isak, into his wet, cold hair, as he crawls up pulling him with him. Even drags Isak to the shower and turns the water on. It’s nice and warm, and as it hits Isak’s skin it makes him gasp.

“Don’t”, Isak mutters under his breath. Even hums.

“I can’t let go or you’ll fall over and crack your skull. I’m not getting murder charges because of you, you know what they do to guys like me in prison.”

Isak pushes himself away from Even. That brings him out of the shower, and he is cold again. Even steps aside.

“Please. You’re freezing.”

Isak hesitates. But he steps under the shower and closes his eyes, running his hands along his skin.

“Good. Get yourself warmed up. I’ll go prepare our party.”

Even finds a bathrobe and wraps it around himself. It’s white and fluffy and so soft, it’s really luxurious. Even pit pats barefoot to the desk and opens the drawer. No cocaine. Shame. He spots the wall panel and walks to it. It takes him a couple of tries, but he manages to turn most of the lights off and some music on.

Even sees the pile of money on the desk. He could just take it, raid some clothes from the closet and leave. He steps by the desk and places his fingers on the bills, stroking their smooth surface slowly. It is ten grand. It could get him a new phone and a party or two, surely enough to make him forget this weird wealthy man cooped up in his tower with a hundred different kinds of showers and a really well stocked bar.

He looks at the bar. It looks untouched. Like the last party never happened. Every bottle has been replaced with a full one, including the grenadine. Even blushes a bit when he remembers the thick, syrupy taste in his mouth. And the bitterness of the lime in a kiss that was more like a bullet shot at Isak.

He should just go, shouldn’t he? Leave the money, borrow some shoes and return them later. By mail. Or leave them with mister McStuffed-Uppiton in the lobby, or just throw them away because this rich bitch can buy a pair of new ones just like that.

But he really, really isn’t feeling like going home right now.

Even gets busy again. He hops around the room, gathering all the cushions and pillows he can find, all in one big pile on the floor. Then he goes to raid the bedroom. He pulls the covers and duvets and blankets and pillows out of the bed, hauls them in a sheet to the living room and starts building the most expensive, most luxurious and most comfortable pillow fort in the world. He uses some chairs as support beams too, so he can make a ceiling. He grabs a table lamp and moves it inside the fort, and then he is done. He grabs the bottle of scotch with him and crawls inside to wait for his guest.

Finally the water gets turned off. Even can hear steps. Not bare feet, and when those feet reach the doorway of the fort Even can see why. Isak’s wearing a pair of spa slippers, and Even gets instantly jealous. He had a pair of those, stolen from a john’s hotel room, but they got so worn out that they didn’t really stay on anymore. Mikael finally threw them out after Even tripped on them and fell and almost chipped a tooth.

Why is he thinking about Mikael again?

That won’t do.

“Come on in”, Even says, trying to sound like it’s a party in here.

The right foot inside the slipper twists, hesitantly. Then Isak’s hands press down against the floor. He crawls inside and looks around, appropriately impressed.

“Welcome to the Secret Fort”, Even says, solemnly. “There is only one rule. Well, two rules. One: no girls allowed.”

Isak snickers. Almost. Even takes it.

“Two: this is a place for secrets. Nothing that happens here leaves this fort, ever. It remains a secret to the grave, never to be even mentioned outside these walls.”

Isak looks serious. He looks hungry. He looks like he’s fighting a losing battle. Even waits for him to make up his mind, and finally he nods. Even hands the bottle he’s holding behind his back over to his guest.

“A toast. To secrets.”

Isak takes the bottle and looks at it. Then he raises it.

“To secrets.”


	20. Isak

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the wait. Have some messy smut.
> 
> Added tag: Unsafe Sex

If the scotch you drink is expensive enough it really doesn’t feel like you have a problem, even when you’re drinking it straight from the bottle and still spilling some on your chin and wrist. But to be fair, it’s Even’s fault this time, he grabbed the bottle before Isak was finished with it. Probably to get a last taste from it before Isak guzzles it all down, but still, rude. Rude.

Everything about Even is rude. His damp hair stuck on his face? Rude. His big blue eyes and perfect cheekbones? Very rude. His plump, delicious looking lips, wrapping around the mouth of the bottle? Rude, rude, rude. Especially when he’s sitting this close, and when Isak is this drunk and raw.

When Isak was warming up in the shower he really tried. He switched the scent of the ocean to the stench of incense. He filled up the sink and held his breath until his lungs burnt, until he saw spots, until he almost blacked out, and when he got up and breathed in the incense with a desperate gasp his head was swimming. But nothing helped. All he could think about was the way water ran along Even’s body.

And here that body is now, barely held within a bathrobe. Isak’s eyes get tangled to the end of the belt constantly. All it would take is one pull. Maybe an accident. Some sleight of hand, and magic would happen.

It sounds so simple.

Maybe it is simple.

Even finishes the bottle off and sets it aside with a grunt. Isak can’t really decide is that a sexy-rude sound or just a rude one. Most likely sexy-rude, because almost naked Even made it, and he really, really should just stop thinking about Even and his near nudity right about now. Fuck.

No! No fuck!

Why does this fort have to be so small? It’s not like there isn’t material. There are enough blankets and pillows in here to make a fort four times this size, though then it wouldn’t be this comfy and cozy and ohhhh-kay Isak’s head is spinning. He falls on his side, landing on a pile of pillows, now happy that there are so many of them.

“I’m really really drunk”, Isak manages to slur.

Even’s body makes a gentle thud as it falls down next to Isak’s. Way, way too close. But Isak doesn’t feel like moving, these pillows are just right and he is really comfortable.

“That’s really not a secret, sorry to tell you.”

Isak remembers lying like this with Jonas, years ago. Drunk out of their mind, or high, or both, and just enjoying each other’s company and closeness. Talking about things that seemed important back then. Grand things. Isak can’t bring back even one of them now, but back then they meant everything. Isak remembers the feeling. How hard his heart was beating. How often he forgot to listen what Jonas was saying and just watched him speak. His lips.

“Tough”, Isak responds, after way too much time in between. Even doesn’t say anything to that. He just lies there, smiling a little bit, his eyes sparkling in the low light of the table lamp hidden behind a pillow.

His heart is beating so hard.

A simple move of a hand, easy to miss if you’re not looking. Isak brushes a damp strand of hair away from Even’s forehead. His fingers twitch at the touch. He can almost hear a distant chant of a prayer, but it gets drowned under the thunder of his heart. Isak is standing on the railing in the balcony, leaning into the wind, he leans just a bit further and then it turns into falling, he’s falling into the abyss he has been staring into for days.

Even’s body catches his. It feels warm. Firm. It feels substantial, real, Isak has been waiting for something impossible to turn into something tangible for over six years and here it now is. Isak can feel his longing turn into flesh he can finally touch, and he closes his eyes, and he kisses Even.

It’s his first kiss with a boy.

As his hand slips timidly, barely, under the bathrobe to touch Even’s chest, it’s his first time touching a boy like that.

When his tongue slips in through the crack of Even’s lips it’s the first time he has tasted a boy’s mouth.

Isak is so drunk, yet everything seems so clear. The colours and the edges are sharper, his senses heightened, it’s like he has found a new drug and that drug is this boy, this man, the incarnation of a dream he hasn’t dared to have before.

Even makes a small, surprised but pleased sound, when Isak slips his hand in further. He can count Even’s ribs with his fingers, and he tries to, but he loses track midway through and has to start over, over, over, over again, all the while tasting Even’s warm, silky mouth.

Isak is shaking. He can feel his body tremble against Even. His whole world is shattering in the turmoil of this earthquake, as their bodies rub together with their movements, and the belts get loose, skin pushes out of the bathrobes to meet the other skin, and Isak has never been this full. His cup runneth over.

Even lets him do this. For that Isak is grateful. Even lets Isak touch him, kiss him, trash into him over and over again, kiss after kiss. He  lets Isak run his hand slowly down his chest, always turning back to the safer ground, stroking at the collar bones with his fingertips, then sliding like the water did, down along the sternum, touching the abs, barely, before fluttering back up again. All this, Even allows, and that makes Isak fill up with gratitude.

He blushes when he realizes he is filling up in other ways as well. He stumbles out of the kiss, pulls his hips back, away from Even’s thigh, but he knows it’s too late. Even noticed. Even is smiling at him, softly.

“Come back”, Even says, and Isak hesitates. But Even asks again, and this time he can’t deny the request. Isak slides back against Even, he lets Even’s thigh slip between his legs, and he lets Even feel how hard he is.

“Nice”, Even whispers, and kisses him again.

_ Nice. _ Isak’s heart skips a beat, jolting with joy. Even thinks his..his..dick is nice. And kisses him. Isak pushes himself hard against that kiss, he wants to drown into it, into this, now, finally. No girl has ever made him feel like this. No girl has made his heart sing like this, with every beat, fi-nal-ly, fi-nal-ly.

Isak’s lips slip from Even’s. They slide down to his chest, tasting the skin, hungry. His mouth roams over the flat land it has discovered. It’s curious, and so is Isak. He kisses his way over to Even’s right nipple. He pushes the bathrobe out of the way as he goes. His tongue flicks over the hard nub quickly, then hurries away, only to return for another taste. His hips are pressing against Even’s thigh. Even shifts his leg and Isak is seeing stars.

“Fuck..” Isak mumbles on Even’s skin. Even chuckles, softly. It makes his chest vibrate.

“Would you like to? Fuck me?”

Isak can’t swallow that word anymore. It pushes out of him by force.

“Yes.”

Even hums softly.

“Okay.” Such a simple word. Even doesn’t probably know how much he is giving to Isak. Then he squirms away from under Isak, and Isak wants to ask why, he wants to panic because Even just said okay but is now leaving, and all Isak can do is shake. Then Even leans down to kiss him, briefly. “I need to get cleaned up. You wait here, I’ll be right back, all ready for you.”

With that, Even leaves the fort. Isak can’t follow him. He’s too weak. Trembling. He rolls over on his back and stares at the blanket ceiling above him. The bathrobe slides on his both sides, leaving him naked and exposed. His head is spinning. The whole room is, now that he thinks of it. The world is spinning around this spot, this place, where Isak is waiting to sleep with a boy. Fi-nal-ly.

Even is taking forever in the shower. Isak can hear the water splashing with his movements, so he knows Even hasn’t just turned the water on and sneaked away. Even is still here, and he is making himself ready for Isak, and when he turns the water off Isak isn’t ready. And still, he is. He is so ready. He has jumped, and he is still falling.

Even crawls back in. Isak is still on his back, trying to keep breathing, to stop shaking. That proves impossible, especially since Even just keeps crawling, over Isak, straddling him between his arms and legs. Isak looks up at him. Even’s cheeks are a bit flushed, his eyes are dark and wild. They look deep into Isak’s eyes as Even slips his hand between his legs and grabs Isak, guides his tip between his buttocks and starts to slide down.

Isak looks up, eyes wide, mouth open. This is it. He is pushing into a boy, or a boy is taking him in. He can feel Even’s body wrap around him tightly, hot and hungry, and it’s almost too much for him. Almost.

He is now a man who sleeps with other men.

He is loving it.

He is loving Even’s eyes that close briefly as he reaches the bottom. He is loving Even’s shoulders that are pushed up into almost pointy peaks. Even’s chest, heaving slightly. Even’s thighs, straddling his body as Even moves his hips, rocking them gently. Isak wants to close his eyes, to focus on what he’s feeling, but he can’t stop looking at Even. Who would turn his eyes when facing a miracle?

Isak is sliding in and out of Even. All he can do is lie there, letting Even do all the work, but Even doesn’t seem to mind. He is breathing heavier now, moving a bit faster, and Isak is drowning into him. Into this. He reaches his hand up, grasping for a straw, and strokes at Even’s cheek. His fingers are shaking, they slip, they fall along Even’s face, brushing over his lips, and land on Isak’s own chest with a slap. Even pushes himself up. He is sitting on Isak’s hips now, rocking his hips, letting his whole body roll with the waves.

Even is so beautiful.

That’s what Isak thinks, over and over again. Beautiful Even. His beautiful body, his angelic face, his battered soul. A fallen angel. Isak is clinging to him with all of his might, falling together with him, all the way to Hell if necessary. He is spinning in the black void, spiraling, falling, falling, falling, and then the blackness splits open under them and swallows them whole, drowning them in white light.

Isak comes inside Even. He comes hard. He is pressing his fingertips above Even’s knees, hard, his heart is racing, and when he is done he slips out of Even. The white light dissolves and he is back in the dark. He lets the abyss pull him in, exhausted, he hears Even say something but can’t make out the words anymore. He is falling, forever.


	21. Even

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 21 is just another chapter, because numbers are an alien concept to me. But I really like this one!

Even nudges at Isak one more time. No response. But he is breathing. That should be enough. Even stretches his shoulders and cracks his neck, checks the scotch bottle one more time (empty, sadly) and crawls out of the fort. He heads for the bar, but on his way there he feels something ooze out of him and down the back of his thigh.

Well, fuck. Looks like another trip to the clinic. Even is probably one visit away from getting a loyalty club card there. He makes a mental note to himself to actually start carrying some fucking condoms with him and changes his direction for the bathroom.

While standing in the shower Even looks around. This isn’t a bathroom, this is a private spa. With all the imaginable goods, too. The jacuzzi looks really tempting, but it would probably take a long time to fill up. Maybe next time.

Even yawns. He’s so tired all of a sudden. Better skip any kind of bodies of water, then, and stick with the shower. It is nice and warm, and the water pressure is excellent, so Even is not complaining. He cleans himself up thoroughly and yawns again. He considered finishing himself off in the shower but he’s not really in the mood, nor hard anymore. He’s too drunk to enjoy it anyway, so it doesn’t matter.

Drunk or not, that was still pretty terrible sex. All these rich pricks are the same, focused on themselves. Isak barely touched Even at all, and what little he did he did rather sloppily. Even should charge him extra just for all the work he had to put in it. But the cash is in the vault, and that vault is probably locked, and Even is perhaps an okay hooker but he would be a terrible burglar.

The ten grand will have to do for now. And a pair of shoes. He’ll just take the scruffiest pair he can find, walk home in them and go mail them back to their owner. Solid plan. Even turns the water off, finds himself a towel and dries off.

He walks out of the bathroom butt naked. He remembers where the closet is from his first visit here. It isn’t locked. Then again, who would lock their walk-in closet? If someone did, then it would be a man with this stuff inside, Even thinks, as he browses the clothes. He hasn’t made enough money in his life to pay for a fraction of this stuff.

Okay. Shoes. Even drops on his hands and knees and starts looking. He keeps finding brand new pairs of shoes, wrapped in sheets of tissue paper and stuffed to keep their shape. He can’t take any of them, he has no idea how much they’re worth but definitely way, way too much. Doesn’t this man own a pair of running shoes or something?

Even has to dig his way all the way to the back of the closet. He finds a plastic bag stuffed under some laundry bags, and inside that bag is a worn out pair of sneakers. They even have a hole in them, but since it’s on the foot instead of the sole it’s not too much of a problem. Even probably won’t make it home with dry feet, but at least he has a chance now.

After exiting the closet Even stops to listen. He can’t hear anything. So Isak is still asleep. Good. Even just wants to get home now, he’s tired and drunk and sort of drained. He has to go home, apologize to Mik and get some sleep. Maybe a bite as well. All the alcohol he’s been drinking has kept his body going, but he needs something solid in him too.

He stops to giggle at that thought. He sure had something solid in him a bit earlier. But that’s gone now. Soon he will be as well.

Even gets dressed and pulls the shoes on. They’re a bit snug, but they fit. He tries to tie them but the shoelace snaps. Even leaves the snapped off piece on the desk as a trade off for the money. He shoves the money in the suit jacket’s pocket. He’ll return the jacket with the shoes.

The doorman has changed. But Even’s good buddy McStuffed-Uppiton has obviously filled his colleague in with enough details to make him look at Even with exactly the same level of condescending tolerance. Even pushes the front door open with his back, blowing the doorman a kiss as he leaves.

He takes a taxi home. The streets are covered in icy water and slush, and it’s dark and depressing, and he has plenty of cash in his pocket now. They drive by a McDonald’s and Even munches away a cheeseburger and a small shake in the back seat on the way home. He gives the driver a nice tip for his troubles and steps out of the car.

On the sidewalk by his house Even looks up. The lights are on. So someone’s home, and up, or (if Even is lucky) passed out on the couch. Only one way to find out.

“Where the fuck have you been?!”

Great. Just great.

“Can’t you yell at me in the morning?” Even grunts, kicking the shoes off his feet. The relief rushes over him when his toes are freed from their confinement. He wiggles them a bit just to make sure they all still work.

“It  _ is _ morning, asshole! I haven’t slept all night, thanks to you.” Mikael is fuming. His eyes are flashing black fire. Even is really in trouble now, and he seriously doesn’t understand why. He glares at Mik, with his best bored eyeroll.

“Give it a rest already.”

“I can’t! That’s the point!”

Even knows how to shut that bitch up. He shoves his hand in his pocket.

“I have sent you a million messages and tried to call you all night! Why is your phone off?”

“I have no idea. I don’t have it anymore.” Even rummages in the pocket, gathering all the money in one handful.

“What do you mean you don’t have it?”

“I gave it to the cab driver, obviously.”

“What cab driver?”

Even stops, closing his eyes. He is so over this conversation. Mikael has already decided he is the bad guy here, there’s no use in trying to defend himself. He counts to ten, then speaks, slowly, forcing his tone to be calm and low.

“It’s winter in Oslo, Mikael. I couldn’t walk around without shoes, now could I?” Good. Calm and collected. Deep breaths.

“Even.” Mikael has calmed down too. He sounds hurt, though. “Look at me. Please.”

Even opens his eyes. Mikael looks hurt, too. Like a puppy someone just kicked.

“You can’t go on like this. You need to take care of yourself.”

Even’s fingers curl up around the bills like a claw.

“Take care of you, you mean?”

Mikael steps back. Ha. Even hit him where it stings.

“With you failing your classes and not blowing your professors, you probably need someone to support you?” Even pulls the money out of his pocket and steps closer to Mikael. He shoves the money inside Mikael’s shirt and pats his chest. “There. Go get yourself something nice. Daddy’s got to sleep now.”

Even swaggers to his room and slams the door shut. He falls on his stomach and is asleep the moment he hits the bed.


	22. Isak

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: sacrilege and blasphemy (Christian themes)
> 
> b r e a t h e

Isak wakes up slower than usual. His head is feeling heavy, and his eyes are so puffy they almost don’t open at all. At least he has stopped falling. He can feel the floor under himself, hard and substantial, he can feel his body’s edges along it. That’s good. Without edges he couldn’t move.

He pushes himself slowly on his back. The ceiling of the fort is draped softly above him. He is surrounded by pillows and stuffy air. It smells like. Well. It smells like sex. Sex that Isak had with Even last night.

Isak closes his eyes as it all rushes over him again. Flashes of Even’s hands, his body, his -- come on, Isak, you’re a grown fucking man. It’s a dick. You’re imagining Even’s dick in front of you, you fucking faggot.

He doesn’t say that out loud, but he still covers his mouth. No. No. That’s not true. Not  _ here. _ This is the fort of secrets, and whatever happens here stays here. The rules don’t apply. Isak lies there, his hand on his mouth, and breathes slowly in and out. He’s inhaling last night. He’s letting it fill him all the way through. He’s taking in all the gay and welcoming it, and it feels like home.

Whatever happens in the fort stays in the fort.

Isak doesn’t want to leave. If he leaves, what happened last night will stay in here, and he isn’t ready to live without it just yet. He needs it. He needs last night desperately. Even’s hands. Even’s body. Even’s dick. His own dick inside Even.

He curls up around a pillow. He’s hugging it so tight his arms and legs can’t keep at it all that long. He unfolds, he inhales, he accepts.

Isak wakes up again. His bladder is getting desperate. He eyes at the empty bottle on the floor, but he is not a fucking animal. He’ll have to get up. Soon. Just a couple of breaths more.

In. Out. In.

Isak is holding his breath as he crawls out of the fort. He wants to keep it inside him as long as possible. He makes it all the way to the toilet before Even rushes out of him in an exhale, and no matter how quickly he tries to inhale again Even is now gone. Isak doesn’t have to check or call his name, he knows. Even is gone.

Isak cleans himself up in a scalding shower. A quick one. He just washes his filth away, he really isn’t feeling like punishment right now. And there isn’t need for any, either, is there? What happened in the fort stays in the fort. Out here? Nothing has happened. Nothing at all.

That thought makes Isak squeeze the edges of the sink for a moment.

When he has recomposed himself he leaves the bathroom. He goes to see if the money is still there. It’s not, of course, Even has taken his pay and left and --

Isak’s eyes get caught by the piece of string on the desk. He knows what that is. He knows exactly what that is, but what he doesn’t understand is how it got there. Why. How. He had forgotten about it. How could he have forgotten about it?

He picks the string up carefully, like he’s afraid it might catch fire in his hands. It doesn’t. It hasn’t before and it doesn’t now, but the second he feels the touch of the cotton Isak remembers his deepest shame. His darkest secret. His fingers twirl the piece of the shoelace around themselves, tight enough to cut circulation, then they unravel it only to wind it up again. The piece is too short to wrap around more than one finger at a time. That’s not right.

Isak runs into the bedroom. He sees the mess, the shoe boxes tossed here and there, all over the floor and leading into the walk-in closet like a trail of breadcrumbs. He remembers Even wasn’t wearing shoes. But why didn’t he take a nice pair? Why did he -- he didn’t -- he did, didn’t he?

When Isak finds the plastic bag at the back, sad and empty, he knows Even did. He took Jonas’ shoes. He gave Isak something incredible and in return he took something irreplaceable. Isak crushes the bag against his sinking chest and staggers backwards out of the closet. His legs hit the bed and he falls on his back.

The piece of the shoelace is still around his finger. He can’t really feel his fingertip anymore, but he knows he has time. It’s been barely minutes. Horrible, horrible minutes endlessly stretching out, but still, minutes.

Isak closes his eyes. He runs his hand slowly down his bare chest and stomach, all the way to his hard dick, and grabs it. He takes the bag with his free hand and pulls it over his head. It smells like the shoes in here. The last bits of Jonas from years ago. They haven’t smelled like Jonas for a long time anymore, but it doesn’t matter, the smell of the shoes itself brings Isak back to those days.

The air is running out quickly. Isak must hurry. He moves his hand up and down along his dick, he can feel the string around his finger rub against the underside of the shaft, and the closer he gets the harder he is breathing. Faster. His heart is screaming in his ears, his lungs are burning, his body is on fire that’s about to either explode or burn out any second now.

Isak explodes with a hoarse scream, that’s muffled by plastic stuck over his mouth. He yanks the bag away and lets it float down on the floor. He lets the shame come over him. The shame of what he just did. Of what he has done years ago, over and over again, swearing to himself after each time that it would be the last. He fondles the shoelace strip, remembering how the lace felt wrapped around his dick.

He really is sick, isn’t he? Clinging to a pair of shoes forgotten in his place, worn out, nasty shoes, and he hasn’t even got a foot fetish. Just an obsession, unhealthy and unrelenting, and now also undead.

Jonas was right. He is sick, he is wicked, and he is crazy, and no matter how many rituals he pushes his body and mind through he will never be purified. But that doesn’t keep him from trying. Isak unwinds the string slowly, enjoying the sting as the blood flows back, and pulls the shoelace along his skin. Over the stains he just made, through them and back again, until it’s covered in his spilled seed.

Isak wraps the soaked shoelace into a tight little ball. He brings it up to his quivering lips.

“This is my body, given to you”, he whispers, pushing the ball into his mouth. He bites down as hard as he can, with his molars, and the cotton makes his teeth screech and ache. He bites harder, clenching the sheets in his fists, letting this unholy Eucharist consume his black, wicked soul.


	23. Even

ASSHOLE

The word is staring at Even from the page of his notebook. He doesn’t remember writing it, in big, fat, black letters, with the rest of the page filled up with its smaller clones, but his handwriting and the ink stains on his fingers aren’t lying. Even tries to raise his head, but the paper is stuck on his cheek and pulls him back down, to stare at that word.

He is an asshole. He has ruined everything. He basically called Mikael a whore, and worst of all,  _ his _ whore. As if all the years before had never happened. As if Mikael hadn’t been the one who has carried him on his shoulders all along.

Even squeezes his eyes shut as he remembers Mikael’s. He was just so angry! He was angry and drunk and frustrated with himself and his life, and none of that was Mikael’s fault. None of this is Mikael’s fault. When was the last time Even asked Mik how he was doing and actually bothered to listen to the answer?

Same with Eskild, really. Even is living with two people and he knows nothing about either’s life right now. He knows more about Isak Valtersen than his closest and dearest friends, and that thought is making him a bit sick to his stomach. Isak Valtersen is a dick. Eskild is a fucking saint and Mikael is his best friend. The difference? Valtersen gives him money.

Even pulls the notebook from under his face and flips back to the page with 10 000 on it. He traces the numbers with his fingertips. His price. His worth. He has given Mikael twice as much and it doesn’t cut it even close.

His hand meets the pen. He grabs it and pulls it closer. The familiar smell of the ink tickles Even’s nose as he pops the cap. He rolls on his back and pulls the hem of his shirt up. It’s pretty tricky to write upside down, but when he gives up the idea of writing and turns it into drawing it gets easier. He writes with the black felt pen on his stomach, in big, a bit wobbly letters.

DAILY SPECIAL 10 000 KR

A knock on the door makes Even drop the pen on the floor. He yanks the shirt down and sits up, his hair a mess and a notebook shaped crease on his cheek. The door cracks. It’s Mikael.

“Evy?”

Even wants to say a million things at the same time. He wants to tell Mikael how sorry he is, and that he needs help, that maybe Mikael could take his new calculator and help Even count his meds, he wants to ask Mikael to help him clean up the living room so this place would look like an apartment again, and he wants to tell he is sorry, sorry, sorry. But he doesn’t say anything. He places his hand over his stomach to make sure his shirt doesn’t ride up.

“You’re awake”, Mikael says and peeks inside. Even nods. He tries to read Mikael’s face, but he can’t. Mik is holding a mask over it. A mask of calmness. Even knows that mask, it’s the same the nurses at the psychiatric ward wear. Mikael thinks he is crazy.

“Could you come to the kitchen for a moment?”

No. He doesn’t want to. He knows what will be waiting for him in there. A cup of coffee. A glass of water. Eskild, wearing the same mask Mikael is wearing. Even doesn’t want to go in there to see he is right. He is breathing slowly, through his nose, in long, hard breaths. He isn’t looking at Mikael.

“Even. Please. We just want to talk.”

Well, Even doesn’t want to talk. He knows it doesn’t matter. He also knows he won’t need to say a thing. This is about Mikael and Even talking at him, about him. It makes Even feel small. Insignificant. Worthless.

He is worth ten grand. That isn’t much, but that’s something.

“We can also come in there honey”, Eskild calls out from the kitchen. He is right. The door is open, and they can walk, and Even really doesn’t want this to take place in his room. Where would he run away from it then?

Even lowers his feet on the floor and stands up. He doesn’t look at Mikael as he pushes past him. He just walks into the kitchen, sits down in front of his coffee and water and stares into the cup.

“We are worried about you”, Mikael starts.

“You’re having an episode”, Eskild continues. Mikael tries to shush him, but Eskild scoffs. “There’s no sugar coating that, Mik. This is an episode and it’s been going unchecked for too long.”

An episode. In other words, Even is a maniac. Crazy. A menace to the society. Even bites the inside of his lip, forcing himself to keep quiet. His friends think he is crazy, and have arranged a nice little meetup to tell him all about it.

“Evy, you are getting out of control. You’re going to get hurt soon.”

“We can’t have you running around with no means to contact you. Disappearing for the night, who knows where.”

“Doing who knows what.”

“Are you in trouble?”

“If you’re not, you will be soon.”

“When did you take your meds the last time?”

“Are you sleeping?”

“Are you eating?”

“Where were you last night?”

“You need to take care of yourself.”

“Are you staying safe?”

“Are you using protection?”

“Where did you get all that money?”

Even slams his hand against the table. Mikael and Eskild jump, and stop talking. Even keeps breathing through his nose, clenching his jaw, his shoulders curled up tight.

“I haven’t seen either of you complain about my money before.” Even is more hissing than speaking. He’s whispering through his teeth. He looks up at Mikael. “You didn’t care where it came from when you stole it from me so you could buy pretty clothes.”

Mikael lowers his eyes. Even turns to look at Eskild.

“And you. Mister  _ I’m late with the rent this month again. _ Ever wonder why we haven’t been kicked out for not making rent?” Even brushes at his stomach, at the price tag hidden by his clothes. “The money has to come from somewhere. Aren’t you glad you live with someone who is crazy enough to get on his hands and knees for quick extra cash and not make a fuss about it?”

Eskild is looking pale. At least he finally shuts up. Even takes the coffee, drinks half of it with one gulp and gets up to throw the rest into the sink.

“Good talk. Have a nice day.”

With that, Even walks to put his shoes on. He grabs a backpack from the coat rack and shoves the shoes he borrowed in it. That makes him remember something, and walk back to the kitchen door.

“Where’s my money?”

Eskild frowns. Mikael slinks to his room and returns with a neat stack. Even yanks it from his hand.

“Where are you going?” Mikael peeps. Even stuffs the money in his pocket.

“To buy a fucking phone so you can keep track of your personal ATM.”

“Even we’re really sorry --”

“Fuck you.” Even turns around and flips Eskild off at the kitchen door as he passes it. He slams the door shut behind him and runs down the stairs.


	24. Isak

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: vague description of assault

After about three days and nights Isak is feeling like a ghost. He hasn’t had a full night’s sleep ever since the night he spent with Even. He’s slept barely at all. Whenever he lies down in his bed, all he can think about is Jonas and how much Jonas hates him. The way Jonas looked at him when he told him to leave their party with Even. The taste of lime and shame in his mouth.

He has canceled all his appointments. He is in no shape to meet anyone, nor he has any desire to. He has also had the bar emptied. He can’t drink when he’s not sleeping, it makes his insomnia worse.

Isak steps inside from the balcony. It’s getting cold out there, and the emptiness all around him is starting to look too tempting. He stops to stand in front of the fort Even built them. He hasn’t had the heart to have it taken apart. He hasn’t had the guts to crawl inside it again. So, it just sits there, in his living room, as a monument of Isak’s shortcomings.

Isak can’t stay in here. His refugee in the balcony isn’t really working anymore. He checks the time, and decides that at three thirty in the morning in the middle of the week he isn’t going to meet anybody he isn’t feeling like meeting. It’s safe to go outside.

He doesn’t want to wake up his driver, so he calls for a cab. He gets dressed without really even looking what he’s picked to wear. Everything he has is classy and well made and elegant, and he doesn’t care one bit. He pulls a black wool beanie over his ears, takes his phone and leaves.

He keeps his eyes closed all the way down. He’s just standing there, leaning his shoulder and his temple on the wall of the elevator, too tired to think but still unable not to. By the time the elevator reaches the ground floor Isak has looked at Jonas doing shots from Even’s body in his head for six times

Isak doesn’t tell his doorman where he’s going or how long he will be, because he has no idea. He just needs to get out for a bit. The taxi is waiting outside the door, and as Isak steps inside he realizes he should have a destination right about now.

The driver turns to look at him over his shoulder.

“Where to, sir?”

Isak doesn’t have an answer.

Then one place pops into his mind.

“That’s a long drive, sir.”

“I have time.”

“Yes, of course, but if I drive you there and head back immediately, that still means working two hours overtime.”

That doesn’t sound good for someone whose job is to drive. Isak purses his lips for a moment, thinking.

“I could order a helicopter.”

“Excuse me?” The driver looks at him, eyes wide. Then he seems to remember where he is parked and who lives in that building. “Oh. Right. You sure could, sir.”

A moment of silence. The radio is on, but the volume is so low Isak can’t tell which song is playing.

“I’ve never been on a helicopter ride. What is it like?”

Isak sighs. He closes his eyes and leans his head on the window.

“It’s expensive.”

“Right. Right.” The driver turns to face the road again. “Is there anywhere else I can drive you, sir?”

“Just drive. I don’t care.”

“Alright then.” The cab drives off, taking Isak with it. He opens his eyes and looks at the tall building get further and further behind them. His tower. His den. Has it ever been a home?

They drive downtown. The traffic flows better than during the day, but the speed limits keep things nice and slow. The cab crawls along the streets, giving Isak plenty of time to look at the view and the people. There aren’t many on the move at this hour. The clubs are still open but not for long, and the lines in front of them have dissolved into the cold night. It feels kind of nice, to be a part of it all instead of looking at it from above.

“Stop the car!”

The driver hits the brakes. Isak almost bangs his head, but he’s too preoccupied to notice. He opens the door and dashes outside.

“Get lost! Fuck off! Leave him alone!”

Isak manages to get one punch in before the three men decide to dismantle instead of drawing more attention to the scene. Isak looks after them, panting, then turns to look down at his feet. It’s Jonas, curled up into a ball, cowering from the kicks he probably doesn’t notice have stopped.

“Jonas? Are you okay?”

Isak squats down and touches Jonas’ shoulder. Jonas slaps his hand away.

“Fuck off!”

Isak draws a long, deep breath.

“Jonas, you’re hurt. Let me get you checked up.”

“I’m fine!” Jonas grunts and rolls over on his back. His clothes are soaking wet. His breath is steaming. If Isak leaves him there, he might die.

“No, you’re not. My cab’s right there. Can you get up?”

“What, you’re getting the limo gilded?”

“Just get in the car. Please.”

They find out soon that Jonas isn’t really able to walk. Isak needs to get the taxi driver to help him drag Jonas on the back seat. He takes the front seat and tells the driver to get to the hospital.

They dont’ speak one word on the way there. Isak is just staring in front of him, at the dark city and its bright lights, and listening to Jonas breathing. He knows that if he tried to ask anything, Jonas would just tell him to go fuck himself. He would be right to do so.

As the cab pulls over by the hospital the driver gets up with Isak. He insists to help Isak get Jonas in through the doors. The help is welcome and needed, in addition to being battered Jonas seems to be wasted. That’s also sort of a blessing, because they can’t make out what Jonas is saying.

All Isak has to do is show his ID, and they are rushed into a private room to wait. Jonas gets to lie down and Isak declines coffee. He’s in no need of any stimulants now, his every nerve end is firing up.

“So, my shift is about to be up.”

Isak turns to look at the driver. He already forgot about him.

“Yes. Of course.” Isak takes out his wallet and pulls out all the money he has in there. “I hope this is enough?”

The driver looks at the cash, eyes wide.

“More than enough. May I?” Isak lets him take the money, and he carefully picks out a small stack. His lips are moving as he’s counting. Then he hands the rest back over to Isak. “Here’s your change, sir.”

“Keep it.”

“No, oh no, I couldn’t. This is way too much, five times the fare.”

Isak shrugs. He doesn’t need the money. He can pay for his ride home with a credit card, when he’s actually inside the cab with the machine. But the driver absolutely refuses to take any extra money, and he goes to the lengths of pushing the money in Isak’s pocket. He pulls his hand away quickly, startled by his boldness, and escapes to the door.

“I hope you have a good night, sir. Thank you.”

And he’s gone. Isak is left alone with Jonas. The room shrinks down, the walls crawl closer together, Isak can’t breathe. Before he can build up a proper panic, the doctor enters the room and asks Isak to step outside for the examination. The corridor stretches out in both directions, and Isak draws his lungs full.

Twenty minutes later Isak is back in the room with Jonas. The doctor found nothing wrong with him, apart from some bruises. Jonas is just really drunk, but not dangerously so.  A nurse hurries in to put an IV - just some fluids and glucose and such - before hurrying out again. Jonas is lying on his back, his eyes closed, pretending Isak isn’t there. Isak pulls himself a chair and sits down. He pretends he isn’t looking at Jonas.


	25. Even

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! I was mad busy and away from home and such, but I finally got some time *and* inspiration tonight. So here!
> 
> Added tags: hand jobs, blow jobs, anonymous sex, glory holes  
> cw: threat of violence, not graphic

The night is so fucking beautiful. Nothing hurts. The neon lights have been whispering their sweet promises into Even’s ears, and each one of those promises have been kept. Three nights ago Even threw himself on the arms of the city, and the city caught him, and here he is, still cradled by it. Rocked in its lap. Everything is rocking and swaying, and all people around Even are young and pretty, and this can last forever.

Even has no idea who the people he’s with are. He knows they like him. They adore him, some of them lust after him, and Even has kissed tonight at least three of them. He’s gone through the same cycle three times now. He gets into a club, dances the night away, joins a party and follows them home when the clubs are closed, parties and fucks and laughs until his stomach hurts, smokes his lungs sore and when the morning finally comes he finds a bar to sit in until the clubs open their doors and he can start again.

The blonde girl laughs, loud, throwing her head back. Even can immediately tell it’s fake. He can tell she’s trying to get the guy she’s with to like her, and he knows her efforts are going to waste because he is totally going to blow him in the bathroom in about fifteen minutes. He can tell that from the way the guy’s been staring at his lips on and off and mostly on for the last hour.

It’s hard to shake the habit of checking your phone constantly. Even still hasn’t bought one. He would just lose it in some bar or apartment if he bought it now, he’s going to enjoy life for a bit first and then get responsible again. He has deserved a break. He worked hard for this money, and he gets to spend it any way he wants to. He has the right to have fun. So he makes eye contact with the guy who has the blonde clinging to his arm and stands up.

“I’m going to take a piss. Might take a while if I can’t find a free booth.” He laughs and admits he’s got a shy bladder when someone asks, then looks at the guy one more time and heads for the bathroom. He picks a booth, enters it and closes the door without locking it. He wraps his fingers around the top edge of the door and waits.

He doesn’t have to wait for long. The door to the bathroom opens and closes, and someone tries the door of the booth Even is in. Even lets the guy in, and locks the door behind him. Even is standing there, in front of the man, waiting to find out what he wants. He really likes Even’s lips, but does he dare taste them? Even licks them slowly, then smiles, and nods, but the guy (what was his name? Chris? or was Chris yesterday?) places his hands on Even’s shoulders and pushes him sitting down on the toilet seat.

Very well, then. Even keeps smiling and unbuckles the guy’s belt. He decides to call him Chris in his head just in case some other name might pop into his mind while doing this and throw him off his game. He doesn’t know a Chris, so that’s a safe choice. Also, Chris Hemsworth is hot af. As is Chris Pratt, but in a goofier way, and Even’s mind is trying to run away again. He takes a deep breath, pulls the reigns in and takes the dick out. Let’s focus on this now. Carpe motherfucking diem.

It’s a nice dick, too. Tasty. Clean. Even has it half way in his mouth when he remembers something. He pulls back and looks up at Chris.

“Condom?”

Chris grabs his hair and pulls his head closer. Even shrugs. Okay. It’s not like he has any on him. Even opens his mouth again and welcomes that dick into it. He makes sure to keep his head tilted in a way that Chris can see his lips wrapped around his dick as much as possible. He likes to please. It gives him a nice, fluffy feeling inside.

Chris is really getting into this. He is thrusting his hips eagerly, and Even takes every bit he is given. After a while Even opens his eyes and sees something from the corner of his eye. My, if that isn’t a dick! He notices just now that the wall of the booth has a hole in it, and someone has pushed their hard dick through it. Even’s got his mouth full right now, but his hand is free, so why not?

Even takes the dick in his hand and starts jerking it off. It is a bit tough to multitask at first, but Chris is doing most of the moving anyway. Even focuses on sucking and minding his teeth, and that gives him enough brain capacity to move his hand. Excellent work, if he says so himself! He could totally make a living out of this.

Okay that stings. But Even’s too busy to get bummed about that now. Thank heaven. He really isn’t in the mood, either. Instead he focuses harder on working his hand and his mouth, and while he’s at it he strokes at the wall on his other side just in case there’s a dick waiting for him as well. There is not. Even is both disappointed and relieved.

Soon enough Chris comes. He comes without warning Even, and the back his mouth gets flooded with the cum so hard it feels like some is pushing into his sinuses as well. It makes Even really want to sneeze, and Chris is lucky to pull his dick out in such a hurry because the second it’s gone Even’s teeth clack together with the power of his sneezing. Even didn’t have time to swallow, so he splurts the cum all over Chris’ groin.

“Fuck! Sorry!” Even dives in without really thinking about it. He licks the fabric of the pants, the leather of the belt, the metal of the buckle. It tastes salty. It tastes like shame. And when someone knocks on the wall Even remembers he hasn’t moved his hand since sneezing, and he hurries to get back at that. Chris turns around and practically runs out of the booth, leaving Even sitting in there alone, a dick in his hand.

Now that Even can really focus on what he’s doing it doesn’t take long for him to make the guy squirt. This time Even is prepared and catches it with a piece of toilet paper. He slips the paper in the toilet and the dick disappears. A rolled up bill is pushed in through the hole. Even looks at it for a moment. It’s a grand. He considers, for a split second, then takes the money and shoves it in his pocket.

Even waits for the guy to leave first. He leans the back of his head on the tile wall, his eyes closed, and tries to keep breathing calmly. This is okay. This makes sense. He loves dicks, and taking money for touching them is just sensible. Sure, it makes Even a whore, but he has been one for years now anyway. Might as well make some profit with his talents, and this is his only real talent worth anything.

Before Even gathers himself enough to leave someone taps on the wall. Even opens his eyes. He stares at the door for a moment. He could just leave. He is free to walk out. He is free to stay in, too, he is sex positive and this is hurting nobody, and how many dicks has he touched in the last three days for free?

Even reaches his hand out and locks the door. Then he raps at the wall with his fingertips.

Three hours later Even’s pocket is full of various bills. When someone knocks, it takes Even a moment to realize it’s coming from the door of the booth, not the wall, and that it’s much, much louder than the previous ones.

“You. In the booth. Get the fuck out.”

Even’s shoulders tense up. Shit. He’s got caught. He licks his lips quickly, takes a sharp breath in through his nose.

“I’m scared to.”

“You have something to really be scared about if you don’t open this door this fucking second, bitch!”

The man knocks again. Or, to be precise, beats it with his fist. Even’s heart is racing.

“Look. Just let me leave quietly and I’ll give you what I made.” It’s just money. Even can make more. He takes the money out of his pocket and shoves it in through the glory hole. “It’s in the next booth now.”

That does the trick. Even can hear the other door open. He takes his chance. He unlocks the door and dashes out, and he can hear someone screaming after him but no footsteps. Even runs out of the club, into the icy street, and when the sharp winter wind hits him he realizes he left his coat at the cloakroom.

He keeps running.


	26. Isak

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: mention of a deceased child

Falling.

Isak gets jolted awake before he actually fell asleep, pulled back by a feeling of falling down from the railing of his balcony. He remembers seeing Jonas’ face above him, and he couldn’t tell had Jonas pushed him down or not. Isak rubs his face with his hands, trying to shake the dread off his shoulders.

“Go home.”

Isak lowers his hands and looks at Jonas. Jonas looks so small, lying in the hospital bed. He’s so skinny. His eyes are set so deep in his head. For the briefest moment Isak is certain Jonas is dying. That moment leaves a blunt, aching echo in Isak’s chest as it passes.

“Why would I?”

Jonas looks around in the empty room. It’s private, yes, but that’s all the luxury it really has.

“Why wouldn’t you?”

Isak is so sick of people telling him what they think he wants to hear. He is so sick of doing the same. Jonas hates him, for a good reason, and it’s probably time to finally let go of him.

“I slept with a guy.”

Jonas stares at him for a moment. Then he makes a short bark, resembling laughing.

“That’s what you gays do.”

Isak shakes his head slowly. He can’t look at Jonas. But he looks at him anyway.

“I’m not gay.” He knows that’s a lie. But the need to say it is too strong. And he’s too much of a coward to take it back, either.

Jonas pats his chest pocket.

“I have something that proves it.”

Isak blushes. Jonas carries the letter with him at all times? That’s. He isn’t sure what it is, but that has to mean it’s something more than simply blackmail material to him. Doesn’t it? Why risk losing it, or it getting destroyed?

“I haven’t touched another man ever in my life. Not after you.”

“Fuck you! You haven’t touched me either.”

Isak closes his eyes for moment. Jonas is right. He hasn’t touched Jonas like he touched Even, not once. Only in his imagination. His fantasies.

“Anyhow. That night was the first time I touched a man. Thought you would like to know.”

Jonas shifts on the bed. He’s restless. He wants to leave. Isak can relate. But this is the first time they are in the same room together, actually talking about this. About what Isak is, about what that made him do.

“What the fuck am I supposed to do with this information?”

Isak doesn’t have an answer.

“Whatever you wish.”

They are quiet for a moment. Then Jonas draws in a slow, deep breath.

“Fuck you, Issy.”

Isak opens his eyes and looks at him. It still stings. Hearing Jonas call him Issy and not mean it the way he used to.

“This is what you do. Always. I’m fucking sick of it.”

Isak doesn’t understand what Jonas means. He doesn’t want to ask, and he knows he doesn’t have to. Jonas is just thinking about what to say, not if he should say it or not.

“When was the last time you actually did something yourself?” Jonas isn’t looking at Isak. He’s looking somewhere inside him, at his thoughts, gathering them and putting them into words simple enough for Isak to understand. “Because what the fuck is this if not you trying to get me to tell you off for your gay antics?”

Isak doesn’t say anything. Because Jonas isn’t wrong, is he? Fuck, how fucked up is he? How twisted is his one-sided relationship with Jonas?

“You really think you’re so special, don’t you?” Jonas is getting his engine started now, he’s firing up and raising his voice a bit. The room feels smaller all of a sudden. “Isak fucking Valtersen, the golden boy, the god among men. You are born with a golden spoon up your ass, sucked privilege from your mother’s withered teat and never in your life done  _ anything. _ Whatever it is you want done, you make others do for you.”

Isak wants to tell Jonas he is wrong. But Jonas isn’t. He isn’t wrong. Isak has always had it all. He doesn’t know what it is like not to.

Isak just wishes he could tell Jonas the price he has paid for that.

“You wanted to fuck up someone’s life for your gayness, and you fucked up mine. I had nothing to do with it! I didn’t ask you to fall for me, I thought you were my friend.”

Jonas sits up. Isak tries to stop him from pulling out his IV, but he can’t touch Jonas, so that’s a futile attempt. As Jonas swings his legs over the edge of the bed Isak has to jump back or get kicked.

“Jonas, please, stop. You need to get well.”

“I need shit! A couple of bruises! I’m just drunk, but here I am, in this special private room, rushed past the line of people in actual need of help, just because I’m here with Isak Valtersen.”

“I did donate them the money for the infant ICU last year”, Isak tries. Jonas isn’t impressed.

“What, you turned your pockets and shook out the spare change? I’m  _ touched. _ Really.” Jonas steps closer to Isak. Isak steps back. He isn’t proud of that move, and Jonas takes notice on that. He scoffs. And reaches into his chest pocket and takes out the letter. Isak’s eyes get glued to it.

“Like always, your money was useless.” Jonas unfolds the letter and slaps it against Isak’s chest. “Keep it. I just want to forget about you.”

As Jonas lets go the letter floats down on the floor. Isak can’t touch it, it would burn him.

“What did you need it for?” Isak whispers, his eyes on the letter. He could give more. He could give so much more if that meant this wasn’t a real, permanent goodbye forever. Isak forces himself to look up at Jonas, pleading. Please, Jonas. Give Isak this.

Jonas hesitates. He wipes his mouth with his palm, looking away. Then he looks back at Isak.

“My niece. She’s -- was. She was three years old and the treatments didn’t work. We flew her to Australia to see a specialist but it was fucking useless.”

Isak has nothing. He assumed Jonas needed the money for drugs, or to get out of debt to the wrong people, or wanted to gamble the money away. He was wrong.

“I’m so sorry --” Isak starts, but Jonas kicks the trash can across the room, making Isak jump.

“You don’t get to be sorry for me! Not after what you did!”

Jonas is right. It hurts, but Isak has to admit it. Jonas is right about everything. About him. Isak closes his eyes and tries to stop shaking. He hears Jonas leave the room. That snaps him out of it, the door closing behind Jonas, Isak opens his eyes and rushes after him.

It’s too late. Jonas is gone. Isak looks for him outside the hospital, but doesn’t catch a glimpse of him. He looks for Jonas among the people in the lobby, all the sick and injured people waiting for their turn to see someone who could help them, but he’s not there. He’s gone.

Isak remembers the letter. He turns around to hurry and get it, when he hears a familiar voice from behind him. He stops to try and remember where he knows it from, then it hits him. The cab driver. He’s back, and he’s trying to convince someone to stay seated while they go get someone. Isak takes a curious look over his shoulder and stops. He just stops. Everything around him shrinks and turns black, and at the end of that tunnel sits a man with blue lips and a drizzle of blood running down his face.

Even’s hurt.

Isak can’t really feel his legs, but he still somehow manages to walk to Even. Even looks up at him and flashes him a weary but charming grin.

“Heyyy. Fancy seeing you here.”

Even looks awful. He is pale, almost blue, and his lips are quivering, and the narrow crimson stream of blood only emphasizes his paleness. He looks like he hasn’t slept in a long time, either.

“What happened?”

“I was dancing on a table and stepped into a glass. Toppled over. No biggie.”

Isak offers Even his hand. Even’s fingers are icy cold.

“I have a private room if you’d like to wait there.”

“Nice! Show the way, daddy Warbucks.”

Isak doesn’t laugh at the joke. He just leads Even to the room’s door. Even steps inside, and Isak is about to follow him when the taxi driver hurries after them.

“I thought your shift was over”, Isak tells the flustered man.

“It was. It is, sir, it’s just that I saw him stagger along the street without proper clothes on in that weather, and I couldn’t just leave him there. He told me he slipped on the ice and fell and hit his head, too, so I decided to bring him here just in case.”

Isak frowns. That’s quite different to the story Even told him moments ago.

“They told me to take a number and wait to get him evaluated. The wait is about two hours now, if nothing surprising happens.”

“Go home”, Isak says. “I can get him out of here in twenty minutes.”

He should probably be ashamed of that. But he’s too beat to give a fuck. The driver looks at him, eyes wide. Isak can see the struggle, inside a good man, the choice between his own comfort and someone else’s suffering.

“It’s okay. I know him.”

Relief lights up the man’s face. He’s off the hook, and he’s happy about that, and probably realizing Isak can tell makes him blush.

“Thank you, sir. Goodnight, sir.”

“No. Thank you.”

The driver leaves and Isak pulls the door open. He freezes. Even is standing in the middle of the room, holding a piece of paper. A letter.


	27. Jonas

~~_ Dear Jonas _ ~~

_ My dear Jonas, _

_ I have a confession to make. No. I have confessions to make. _

_ First, I’m so, so sorry about you and Eva. You might want to know she has been a total mess since you’ve been gone. Everybody misses you. _

_ I miss you. _

_ There’s no easy way to say this. I have tried. I have written this letter twenty times over. This is the 21st attempt, and I have learned there isn’t a way around this. _

_ I love you. _

_ God, if you could only see the smile on my face right now. But you have. You have seen it for months, every time I see you. I smile like that because I love you, and seeing you makes me so fucking happy my face can’t hold it in. _

_ I love you, Jonas Noah Vasquez, with all my heart and soul. And body. That’s the important bit in this, isn’t it? I love you with my body, and my body aches to be with you. My parents will disown me for that. If you’ll have me, I’ll let them. If I can be yours, and you can be mine, I don’t need anything else. _

_ But. _

_ I have a second confession to make. _

_ I leaked those pictures to Eva. I know you don’t love her, and I know you were just hanging out with her so you could come to our parties and shit. If you loved her you wouldn’t have been kissing someone else like that. _

_ You think money is so great. It’s not. It’s bullshit. Love is everything. _

_ I love you. _

_ Forever yours, _

_ Issy _


	28. Even

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gah! I hate this chapter! It feels so messy and rushed and forced. But I have zero chill and have been wrong with this feeling like a million times before, so here you go.

This is the first time Even has read a love letter. Sure, he has sent some rather sappy messages to girls, but never grabbed a pen and actually written a letter, let alone a love letter.

It goes without saying nobody’s ever written Even one, either.

He’s still pretty sure, that a love letter shouldn’t be quite this heartbreaking. Even did think he saw Jonas storm out of the hospital when he arrived, and apparently he was right. This letter is written for Jonas. Has it been delivered, too?

Even licks his lips slowly, remembering the spite he tasted in the kiss from Jonas. It’s obvious, now that he thinks of it. Jonas has read this letter. It seems old, too. Years old. Even raises his eyes to the door when he hears something that sounds like a chest caving in and pushing out all the air in the lungs. It’s Isak. Issy.

“I’m sorry”, Even says, waving the letter. “I shouldn’t have read this. I didn’t know what it was and then it was too late.”

“That’s mine”, Isak spits and yanks the letter away from Even’s hand. It almost gets torn. Even is so happy it doesn’t, because that would shatter the man in front of him.

“Yeah. I know.” Even shudders all of a sudden. Now that he’s inside in the warm he can feel just how cold he is. His teeth are clattering. “Fuck, I’m freezing. I would give anything for a warm bath.”

Isak looks at him for a moment. Then he folds the letter carefully and puts it in his breast pocket.

“I have four bathtubs.”

Even wraps his arms around himself. He wishes he wasn’t this cold and miserable. It’s hard to negotiate when you’re desperate.

“If you want me in one of them you know what it costs.” For some reason Even doesn’t want to look at Isak when he says that. It doesn’t matter, Isak can still hear him. Know the price. Even needs the money he’s lost today.

Isak doesn’t say anything at first. He steps closer. He looks at Even differently now.

“How much to get you in one of them for a week?”

A week in that penthouse. That’s not too bad at all, now is it? Even flashes Isak a slightly nervous smile.

“I don’t know about that. I’ve seen that movie. A hundred times.” A rich guy buys a hooker for his penthouse, for a week. Then they fall in love. Even is not going to sign up for falling in love with someone with as many fucked up issues as Isak Valtersen.

“What movie?”

Even laughs. Everyone knows that movie. It’s a classic.

“Pretty Woman? Julia Roberts and Richard Gere in the greatest romantic comedy of our time?”

“I’m pretty sure it was made before  _ our _ time.”

Even almost shrieks out of excitement.

“You made a joke! And a funny one, too! Are you human after all, mister Valtersen?”

Isak almost smiles. Even takes it. He knows now why he was picked up by that taxi driver and dragged here. He is here to make Isak Valtersen smile. Maybe something more, too? Who knows.

“How about we take it one day at a time?”

Isak nods, accepting Even’s suggestion. That’s good. No long term plans. Carpeing the shit out of the diem. Even shudders again, all over, he is so fucking cold.

“Do you have the limo ready? I really need that bath.”

Isak frowns. He looks at Even, worried.

“Don’t you think you should get that head wound checked up?”

Head wound? Oh, right! From when he slipped! Even touches his forehead and barely hisses at all.

“It’s just a minor cut. I’m fine. Apart from the cold.”

“They might want to take a look at that, too. Hypothermia isn’t a joke.”

“You know how they’re going to treat that? Stick me in a bath. I’d rather do that in the nicest bathroom known to man.” Even pops his hip a bit, and looks at Isak with his best bedroom eyes. “I bet they won’t let you join me in here, either.”

Even waits. He knows what the answer will be. He knows how to do his job, after all. Isak takes his phone out of his pocket and tells Even he’s going to call a cab.

Twenty minutes later they’re in the elevator. Even is shaking constantly now, his body trying desperately to warm him up. Even pulls the damp shirt over his head and lets it slap on the elevator’s floor. He can almost feel Isak’s eyes on his skin.

He is going to make so much money in here. For so little effort, too. Maybe he’ll make enough to be able to move into his own place. He has hung out with Mik for way too long, attached from the hip. It’s time to break free.

Even steps out of his jeans with the same step he takes out of the elevator. He drops his underwear off at the bathroom’s door. The heated tiles feel really great under his bare feet. He turns the switch and the hot tub starts filling up. While he’s waiting for that to happen he steps under the shower. The warm water feels so, so good. Taking a shower in general has been way overdue as well.

“Mind if I join you?”

Even looks at the door and smiles. A bit more heat would be nice. Body heat. He steps back a bit, making room. Isak enters the bathroom and undresses. He does it so carefully, like it’s a holy ritual, that by the end of it Even has forgotten to smile. When Isak walks to him he is solemn. He is breathing slower. They both are.

Isak comes to him. He steps under the shower and lets his body press against Even’s. He is so warm. Isak rests his head on Even’s collar bone and closes his eyes. He simply is there, skin against Even’s skin. He doesn’t grab Even. He doesn’t touch Even, not like that. He just is there, giving up his warmth for Even.

Even jumps when the hot tub buzzes an alert.

“It’s ready”, Isak says. He doesn’t move. Even turns the shower off and notices he isn’t shaking anymore.

“Let’s get in. I love hot tubs.”

Isak looks almost scared. It’s really adorable. When he’s wet and naked and afraid, the most powerful man in Oslo sure doesn’t look like all that much. Even takes his hand and pulls him with him to the hot tub. They climb in, and Even hits the button. The bubbles start roaring, pushing their way to the surface aggressively, and hiding their bodies from their eyes. Isak’s shoulders relax.

Even closes his eyes and rests his head on the edge of the tub. He could fall asleep here. When has he slept last? Oh, right. Before Mik and Eskild tried to stage their little intervention. No wonder Even hasn’t slept since, all that stress. About time Even gets to unwind.

As his body relaxes his mind remembers seeing something on the way here. When Even first walked past it, he was too focused on his goal of warmth, but now that he’s finally properly thawing out he remembers. He opens his eyes and looks at Isak, who blushes and turns his eyes away. So, he was watching Even. It’s cool.

“You haven’t taken down the fort.”

Isak’s blush deepens. He is squirming a bit, too. Interesting. It feels so good, to have power over someone for a change. Even is so tired of being the underdog all the time.

“Why?”

Even catches Isak’s eyes with his and refuses to let them go. Come on, mister Big Shot. Spill it. You know you want to. Even can tell. Isak is squirming in the water.

“It’s stupid”, Isak peeps. He looks so young now, his hair damp and clinging to his face, his eyes huge wet pools. Young and fragile.

Even runs his hand through his hair and waves it briefly in the air.

“Look, I’m nobody. I’m a rentboy. Like a piece of furniture, or a trinket, something you can throw away when you’re done with me. You can tell me anything, and it’s totally meaningless. You’ll be telling it to nothing. Like whispering it to the wind.”

Isak shifts. He’s uncomfortable. Even should help him relax, shouldn’t he? Nobody pays for a hooker to make them feel uneasy. Even reaches his hand over to Isak’s face and strokes his cheek with the back of his fingers. Isak turns his face a bit, so his lips almost but not quite touch Even’s wrist.

“I didn’t want to take it down because what happened in there stayed in there.”

It’s a confession. It’s small, spoken in a timid little voice, but it still makes Even’s chest sink a bit. This man is so. He’s so fucked up, isn’t he? In a way Even can never understand.

“So, you don’t sleep with guys that much?”

Isak shakes his head. He pulls back, out of Even’s reach.

“It was the first time.”

Even almost lets its slip off of his tongue.  _ I could tell. _ But he catches it just in time and reels it back in and swallows it. He doesn’t need to be cruel. This man is no threat to him. He holds no power over him.

“So, I take it it was enjoyable? If you want to keep it. In a way.”

Isak almost laughs. It sounds more like a sniffle.

“It was everything.”

If you put together everything and nothing, you get something. Even isn’t sure if he’s ready for that. He closes his eyes so he can think for a bit.

Isak’s lips brush against his fingertips.


	29. Isak

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! I got some spare time today after finishing my NaNoWriMo duty, so I made you a chapter of sweet heartache and mess. Enjoy! Remember to thank me, maybe? Or tell me off. Whatever's your groove!

Isak brushes his lips against Even’s fingertips. Even has closed his eyes, and Isak is happy about that. This is something secret, something so delicate and sensitive that it could be broken with a look.

Even doesn’t pull his hand back, either.

He lets Isak run his lips along his fingers. If Isak uses a bit of his imagination, he can feel Even touching his lips, feeling them, exploring them. But he doesn’t use it. He doesn’t give himself the luxury of that illusion. He is moving his face against Even’s hand, not the other way round, like a dog that’s pushing his head under his master’s palm.

Pathetic.

Jonas is right to be disgusted by him.

Isak pulls back. He gets out of the tub. He can’t be close to Even now. Not now. Maybe not ever. But it doesn’t matter, because Even doesn’t want to be close to him, either. He’s only here because Isak is paying him.

“You don’t have to let me touch you to get your money.” Isak is speaking quietly, his head turned away from Even. He doesn’t want to see his relief. “Nor touch me.”

Isak can hear the water splash. Even moves. Probably pulls his hand back.

“Oh?”

“Yes. I have no desire for a  _ yes  _ that is the only option.”

The water splashes again. Even has changed where he is sitting. Isak still can’t look at him.

“Jonas is a dick.”

Isak spins around, looking at Even, eyes wide.

“What did you just say?”

Even is looking at him, confident. He looks so good when he’s wet. In this light.

“Jonas is a dick. I get it that you messed up his life and all, but he didn’t have to rub it in your face like that. With me.”

Isak can’t believe the audacity of this bitch. How dare he say something like that about Jonas? His fingers curl up, clenching into a fist.

“Take that back.”

Even raises his brow. He looks almost amused.

“Excuse me?”

“Take that back!” Isak knows he’s sounding like a child now. A teenager acting up. He is feeling like one, at least. But he can’t help himself. He can just stand beside himself and watch.

“Take that back? Really? What are you, twelve?”

“Fuck you! You have no right! You don’t know shit!”

Even stands up. Water is drizzling down his body. All the way down his naked -- Isak turns his eyes away. His mouth is drying up.

“I know a thing or two about dicks. You know, being a prostitute and all.”

Isak did not just smile at that. Right?

“You’re an idiot. And wrong. I did a really shitty thing to Jonas. I ruined his life.”

“Yeah, that’s what you wrote. But you were wrong. People do that.”

Isak turns to look at Even again. He isn’t comfortable with this conversation. It’s so strange. He’s still unable to stop himself from speaking.

“I was wrong to tell her.”

Even shakes his head and waves his hand dismissively.

“No, no, not that bit. Jonas was a dog, he was bound to get caught sooner or later. His own damn fault.”

Isak wets his lips quickly. He doesn’t understand. If what he did to Jonas wasn’t wrong, then what was?

His love?

It must have been his love, and that thought felt unbearable. He was scared to ask, so he didn’t. Even would keep speaking anyway, he was just the type.

“You see, you got it the wrong way around. Most kids do, when they’re young and don’t know better.” Even steps closer. Isak can barely breathe. Even is too beautiful and too close and too untouchable. “Love is bullshit. Money is everything.”

Isak tries to shake his head. No. Even is wrong.

“Money can’t buy me anything I want.”

Even steps closer more. He’s so close Isak can feel the warmth radiating from his body.

“I beg to differ.”

Even raises his hand and touches Isak’s chest. Isak is sure he can feel Isak’s heart beat its way out through his sternum. Even’s fingers feel like fire, and suddenly Isak is so, so cold.

When Even leans in for a kiss Isak lets him. He closes his eyes and opens his mouth, and receives Even’s lips on his. He is shaking. Even wraps his arms around him and pulls him close, and he leans on Even’s chest and kisses him, over and over again. He is inside his own body again, but he still can’t stop. He doesn’t want to stop.

He throws himself against Even. He can’t stop touching him. His hands roam all over Even’s naked body. It feels so good. It’s so smooth, and so warm, and still slightly damp, and when Isak runs his hands over Even’s chest he feels so strong. His heart isn’t fluttering at all, it’s beating like a drum.

Even feels so different to touch than the girls Isak has slept with.

He makes Isak feel so different.

“Please”, Isak whispers on Even’s lips. “Love me.”

Even’s lips turn away from Isak’s, down the side of his neck. Right under his ear.

“Don’t you worry, baby”, Even murmurs softly. “I got you.”

Even’s lips tickle on Isak’s neck. They send ripples of pleasure along Isak’s skin, like electricity. It’s jump starting Isak’s system, setting his body on fire. Making him gasp, and whimper, and need.

“Take me to bed”, Isak pleads. Even pushes him backward with his body, guiding him, still kissing his neck and shoulder, still holding him tight in his arms. But when they step out of the bathroom they don’t turn right. They turn left, towards the living room, and Isak knows where they are going. He pushes his feet against the floor, to stop them.

“No. I don’t want it to stay in there.”

Even stops. He looks at Isak, letting go of him. Isak can barely look at him, but he does, and Even’s eyes are so blue. They’re water. Isak is drowning in them. He raises his hand on Even’s cheek, his shaking hand, and asks again.

“Take me to bed. Please.”

Isak has asked for anything only twice in his life.

From Jonas.

And now from Even.

Jonas denied him. He knows Even can, too. He told Even he could. That might have been a mistake.

But Isak is sick of hearing  _ yes _ all the time. He knows he can’t take it if Even gives him a  _ no _ right now, but he needs the chance of that no to be born. Isak’s fingers slip down on Even’s chest, his collarbone, and fiddle with it gently. He presses his cheek on Even’s shoulder and closes his eyes. He waits. He’s giving himself for Even, and can only hope Even will receive him.

Even wraps his arms around him. He hesitates, just for a second, Isak can feel it. Then he can feel Even make up his mind. He pulls Isak into another kiss. He takes a step back, towards the bedroom. Isak follows him, his heart singing. He knows this is wrong, but he doesn’t care anymore. He is wrong. He is wrong and wicked and nothing can make him right anymore, so it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters.

“Love me”, Isak asks again. Even told him he can buy anything he wants, and here he is, as living proof. Even hums at him, reassuringly, and guides him to the bedroom. He walks Isak to the bed and presses him down on his back on it. Isak is sighing and gasping in turns as Even slides along his body and kisses his way down his chest. Isak arches his back, trying desperately to push his skin further in that mouth.

“Jonas --” Isak whispers. When he hears what he just said his eyes snap open and he freezes. Oh no. What? What did he just do? He ruined everything. And why? For the man who hates him and he can’t let go?

It takes Isak a couple of seconds to notice Even didn’t stop. Didn’t he hear him? Isak touches his hair, lightly at first, then he pushes his fingers into it. It’s still wet, it tangles around his fingers.

“Jonas”, Isak sighs, louder. He needs to know. He has to know. He even gives Even’s hair the tiniest tug, to make him listen. Even just hums, it makes his lips vibrate right next to Isak’s belly button.

“It’s okay”, Even says, his voice low and husky. “I’ve got you.”

Isak relaxes on the bed. He closes his eyes, focusing on the lips on his skin. He is letting himself imagine it’s Jonas. Just for this once.


	30. Even

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this is not too much all over the place. I've been writing it in bits here and there.

Love is fucking bullshit. It’s fake. It’s fickle. It’s totally depending on the circumstances.

Love can be bought.

And love can be made.

Even is determined to do the latter. He will make love in this room, he will create it from scratch, he will gather the pile of ashes of Isak’s burnt heart and breathe life into them again. Whatever it takes.

Because love isn’t real. It isn’t something you can hold or have. It’s nothing. Isak is asking Even to love him, and Even shall, he shall, he will love Isak with everything he has and then it will be over and gone forever, like it’s supposed to.

Isak should learn the value of things. Then he will finally appreciate the things he has. The things that matter. Then everything he says won’t feel like a slap in Even’s face.

He just wishes it wouldn’t be this hard on him. He knows he can do it, he can love Isak for tonight, but it’s going to be hard. It’s going to tear him apart because that’s what love fucking does. It’s been too long since Even loved someone, he’s not used to the pain anymore.

“Jonas --” Isak whispers under him. With Even’s lips on his skin. Those lips don’t stop because of it because Even is a fucking professional, but it does throw Even’s mind off its track for a bit. He can feel Isak stiffen up against him, but chooses to ignore it. This is fine. This is good. Isak doesn’t want Even’s love, he wants it from Jonas, and that makes it so, so much easier.

Isak speaks the name again, his hand in Even’s hair. Even hums, his lips right by Isak’s belly button.

“It’s okay. I’ve got you.”

It’s the perfect payback for Jonas, too, now that Even thinks about it. He’s going to do the very thing he would never want to. He’s going to love the man who ruined his life. Jonas will love you tonight, Isak. He will love you so hard and then it will be gone, and you will learn.

Even keeps kissing Isak’s stomach. He is taking his time, mapping out the sweet spots. A flick of the tongue here, a graze of the teeth there, hands stroking on the smooth silky skin wherever they can reach.

Isak seems bolder now, too. Maybe it’s because he’s not that drunk, or maybe because it’s not his first time with a guy, or maybe it’s because Even is now Jonas to him. Whatever the reason, Isak is actually touching him now. Isak’s fingers flutter on Even’s shoulders, almost grabbing them but letting go at the last second, only to almost grab them again. Even pushes his body up a bit, toward the hands, to encourage them. He can feel against his chest how hard Isak is. He can feel Isak grind his hips against him.

“I love you, Issy”, Even murmurs, low enough to mask his voice. He draws a circle around Isak’s belly button with his tongue. His skin tastes really nice. Must be all those expensive soaps and lotions and shit.

Isak is shaking. He is shaking and sighing and pushing himself harder against Even. He’s holding something back. Even wants to know what it is. He slides up along Isak’s body, and kisses his neck. His fingers travel lower and lower, teasing the silky hair between Isak’s legs.

“Issy. Give it to me.”, Even whispers. Come on. You know you want to. Even is breathing heavier in Isak’s ear, his breath hot and wet. Full of desire. Acting this turned on is actually turning him on quite nicely, too. Isak is a beautiful man. This won’t be bad at all.

Isak is almost saying something. Even can feel it from his breathing.

“Come on, love. Say it.” Even catches Isak’s earlobe with his lips and nibbles at it gently. He is focusing all his energy at Isak now, radiating love like sunlight. “Tell me.”

Isak whimpers a bit. Even is making him feel so good. He can tell. It’s hot. Even likes to please people. He keeps nibbling on the ear, and strokes on Isak’s chest with his hand. Come on.

“T--take me”, Isak finally manages to say. “Please. I want you to take me.”

Even smiles on his skin. Then he kisses Isak and smiles on his lips too.

“Will it be your first time?”

Isak blushes. Intensely. He’s so ashamed of himself, of this, it’s almost sad. Even is going to change his mind on things tonight, oh yes he is.

“Yes.”

Even hums reassuringly, kissing Isak again.

“I’ll take care of you. I love you.”

The more he says it, the easier it is. It just drops from his lips, effortlessly. He is drowning Isak in love tonight, and from what he can tell, it is about fucking time too.

Jonas must be blind. Or straight. Even has kissed straight boys before, but he can’t really tell with Jonas. But who in their right mind would turn down this man? The richest bitch in the country, so hungry for love that he would probably give everything he has just for a drop.

Jonas is an idiot.

Even is not.

He slides down Isak’s body again, all the way down. He kisses Isak’s inner thigh, on both sides. His fingers caress Isak’s thighs and hips gently, teasing them softly, making Isak squirm and his dick rock hard. It’s aching to be touched, it must be, and it twitches when Even’s lips brush against its underside.

“I love you Issy”, Even whispers, right before taking Isak in his mouth. It makes Isak gasp and moan, it makes him grab the sheets with his both hands and arch his back. Even can feel Isak’s thighs shake on his both sides. He grabs them a bit harder, making Isak moan again.

Even knows he gives great head. He can take Isak all the way in, too, briefly, he buries his nose in the soft curly hair and then pulls back again, sucking and licking the hard dick in his mouth eagerly. Isak tastes really fucking good. He’s so fucking hard, too. He’s not going to last for long.

Not yet, Issy. Not yet. Your Jonas is going to make you desperate for it first.

Even pulls back. Isak makes a frustrated groan. He’s raising his hips over and over again, trying to hit Even’s mouth again, but Even doesn’t let that happen. He flashes Isak a teasing smile.

“Need something?”

Isak almost laughs, but he’s too frustrated to.

“Yes! Jonas, please!”

It doesn’t really sound like Isak means it. Calling him Jonas. It’s more like a line of some kind. Something you’re supposed to say, something rehearsed and planned. It sounds different from the first ones. Even hums again, and gets on his knees between Isak’s legs. He grabs Isak’s dick and moves his hand slowly up and down.

“You can call me whatever you want”, Even whispers. “I’m here for you. I love you.”

Isak doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t look at Even, his eyes are closed. Even smiles at him, softly. Isak likes this so much. It’s really nice. Isak loves this, being with him, he really, really loves this.

“Do you have lube, love? We need some.”

Isak has it. He has to search for a bit, but he has a nearly untouched tube of it. Even guides Isak on the bed again, on his back, and pulls his legs apart.

“Keep these open for me, won’t you?”

Isak nods, his eyes closed again. He looks really focused. Intensely. Even takes his time with this. There’s no hurry, they have all night.

“You look so pretty, love. I can’t wait to touch you. I can’t wait to make you feel so good.” Even speaks quietly as he’s spreading the lube. When he touches Isak with his slippery finger Isak jumps. Even calms him down by stroking his stomach gently, and when Isak has settled down and relaxed Even starts teasing his rim. He’s knocking on the door, not kicking it in. This is special. Delicate. Isak is so wound up he’s on the brink of breaking, and Even doesn’t want to break him. He wants to love him.

Even pushes his finger inside Isak. Slowly, joint by joint, giving Isak time to get used to the idea of having another man inside himself. Bit by bit Isak’s body accepts him, takes him in, and when Even’s finger is all the way in there Even bends down and kisses Isak’s hip.

“You’re doing so great. I love you so much.”

Isak makes a sound. It’s a mix of a tiny laugh and a moan and a sob.

“No you don’t”, he whispers. Even frowns. That’s not what he wants to hear right now. He moves his finger slowly, bending it a bit, getting to know how Isak works and what makes him tick.

“I don’t?”

Isak shakes his head. He opens his eyes, and closes them immediately again with a moan as Even hits something good inside him.

“No, you don’t”, Isak gasps. He is breathing heavier. Harder. “It’s okay.”

Even nods.

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No! Please.” Isak is shaking again. “Don’t stop.”

Even smiles. At least he’s doing something right. Apparently he can’t make Isak feel loved, but at least he can make him feel good. Figures, really. He is a hooker, not a lover, after all. You can ask anyone.

“Don’t worry. I won’t.”


	31. Isak

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Fibonacci day! Have an update. Don't expect too much of it, my sleep deprived brain is toast.

Isak can’t believe this is actually happening. He is on his back on the bed, with Even between his legs, his hole bare and slippery and hungry. So hungry. Every finger Even added inside him hurt, and Isak knows Even’s dick will hurt as well, but still he can’t wait. He just can’t. He has to have this. He has to have Even. He just wishes it was Jonas. And years ago. But he can’t have neither. He can have this. Even. Tonight. It’s not love, but it’s something, and it’s something good. It’s time.

“Spread them for me, babe.”

Isak opens his eyes. Even keeps calling him babe, or love, and Isak keeps letting him. It’s probably not wise. He doesn’t care. Even’s dick is pressing against him, and Isak spreads his legs a bit further. Even is beautiful there, his tall body towering between Isak’s legs. He looks at Isak, cocking his head, and Isak nods. He’s ready. As ready as he can possibly be.

Even pushes in. Slowly. He’s taking his time, letting Isak get used to this, bit by bit. As if Isak could get used to this. He should have gotten this over with ages ago, with someone he paid for exactly this, but. He was saving himself for Jonas. It’s obvious enough now, Jonas doesn’t want him. So Isak can give himself to someone else. Like Even here.

Isak just has a hunch Even is only a slightly better option.

Then Even’s tip slips inside Isak and Isak stops thinking altogether. His brain turns off and he becomes flesh. Only flesh. Hungry, yielding flesh, that takes in Even’s commanding body. It hurts. The pain is sharp and cuts through his whole body, but at the same time he wants to take it. He has never experienced closeness like this, and he hasn’t understood before that he needs it more than anything.

Even was right.

He can buy something he wants.

“Oh my god --” Isak whimpers. His arms reach out over his head, his hands grasp at thin air, trying to find something to hold on to. He doesn’t find anything. He barely notices. His full attention is focused between his legs, and Even’s dick, that’s pushing into him slowly but without mercy.

Then Even stops moving. Isak makes a little sound in protest. He doesn’t want Even to stop, he wants Even to go on, to take him, to make him his -- Isak doesn’t dare say it even in his head, but he wants Even to make him his -- his --

Even pulls back and Isak realizes Even stopped because he ran out of dick to push in. It’s kind of a surprise, how it hurts also going out. But it still isn’t too much to handle. The pain splits him, but he can take it, and he wants to take it, he wants this. He needs this. He has experienced closeness like this only once before, inside a blanket fort, one magical, terrible night. When he was inside Even. Now Even is inside him.

Even is inside him.

Isak can’t really comprehend that. He has a dick inside him. It’s pushing back in again, tearing him apart like love. All it took was money. Isak closes his eyes, but still he can see only Even. Even’s focused expression as he is holding himself back, knowing he is hurting Isak and trying not to do so. Jonas wouldn’t try. He would force himself into Isak over and over again, not caring how much it hurt.  _ You wanted this, bitch, _ he would say,  _ now take it. _

Isak really wants this. That’s the hardest part in this. He wants this. It doesn’t matter that it hurts, or that it’s wrong, or that he has paid for this. None of that matters. Isak opens his eyes again, looking up at the ceiling, trying to keep breathing and stay relaxed.

Even leans over him. His angelic face appears above Isak. His lips are cracked, his eyes are focused and intense, and he is breathing slow and heavy. Isak raises his shaking hand and touches Even’s cheek.

“Ok?” Even asks. Isak nods. He is okay. As okay as he can be. Sufficiently okay to keep this thing going. To keep this happening. Isak looks up at Even with feverish eyes.

“Can you come like this?” Isak asks. “Can you come inside me?”

Even nods. A little smile pulls on the corner of his mouth. It has a guilty shade.

“We should wear condoms when we do this.”

Even is right. They really should. They should stop now and put a condom on. But Isak doesn’t want to stop. He can’t stop. If he stops now he might not want to continue. If the pain stops, maybe he won’t be able to welcome it again.

“Next time”, Isak whispers. Then he notices what that means.  _ Next time. _ What next time? This is just a one time thing, to get it out of his system, that’s it. Right.

Isak closes his eyes so he doesn’t have to see Even’s face right now. He doesn’t want to see the victory. Isak has lost. He has lost and he has been defeated, and all that’s left for him to do is surrender.

Sweet, sweet surrender.

Even pushes into him again. Isak makes a little sound. A moan, a whimper, something like that. It makes him blush. He is a whiny little bitch, isn’t he? A rich little cunt who needs to learn his place.

Except he knows his place. On the fucking top of all the food chains.

The issue is that he doesn’t like being there. He prefers this. It hurts, yes, it hurts a lot, but at the same time it’s something he can’t control. He has no power over this, and that feels so good.

How pathetic is that? All his life Isak has been longing to give the control to someone else. He hasn’t been able to control himself, he still isn’t. And here he now is, whimpering and moaning under a whore.

But no matter how hard Isak tries to put himself down, it keeps getting drowned under something more. Something better. The connection he is having with Even, the physical and emotional, their shared experiences have etched them together in ways no amount of civilised socialising could ever achieve.

Closeness. Or Stockholm syndrome. Whatever the cause, their fates have been intertwined, whether they like it or not. They can’t fight this. Isak has stopped fighting, he is surrendering, completely, and Even is claiming his body like conquered land.

Isak moans again. Just to try it out. It helps. It dilutes the pain. It increases the hint of pleasure Isak is feeling inside him. Moan by moan it feels better. Push by push Isak moans louder. His fingers cling to Even’s shoulder blades. He spreads his legs just a bit further more.

He isn’t hard himself. The pain is too much of a distraction. He is too wound up. He is way, way too preoccupied with his existential crisis. But Even is hard, oh so hard, and he is inside Isak, over and over again, and a part of Isak doesn’t want this to ever end.

But it ends. Even is breathing faster, more shallow, his thrusts are getting uneven. Isak keeps his eyes on Even’s face, on the quivering lips, on the fluttering eyelashes, on the focused expression that turns into release the same time Isak feels something squirt inside him.

Even rides the wave all the way to the shore. Then he opens his eyes and looks down at Isak. He moves his hand between their bodies, to try Isak’s dick, but he pulls his hand back when he feels Isak is soft. He knows Isak enjoyed that anyway. He must know, Isak is feeling it so intensely that it must be written all over his face. He enjoyed that. This.

“Are you okay?” Even whispers, his voice soft and husky.

Isak closes his eyes.

“I don’t think so.”


	32. Even

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> OK so Tuii asked my when will I write smut again. Here you go, babe!

Even lies down beside Isak. Everything is pleasurably misty and hazy right now, shrouded in the mist of the afterglow. It’s done now. Isak Valtersen’s cherry has been popped. Even wins. He wins.

Isak liked it. He’s soft but he liked it, Even could tell. He still can. So, why is Isak claiming he isn’t okay?

As if Even doesn’t know. He just came himself, and he’s not okay, either.

“So, do you want to. I don’t know, talk about it? I have time.” He has all week. Unless Isak kicks him out before that.

“Have you ever loved someone you shouldn’t?”

Okay, that question actually manages to surprise Even. He didn’t expect that level of intimacy. Despite what they just did.

“I have.”

“How did you stop?”

Even stares at the ceiling for a bit. It’s so high above him, and it keeps pulling back and turning into this pink hue.

“I’m not sure if I ever did”, Even says finally. “But it doesn’t matter. It makes no difference to anything.”

“Because love is bullshit?” Isak asks. Even isn’t sure if he hears a little smirk in his voice or not.

“Exactly.”

Isak shifts on the bed. It’s Even’s turn to smirk.

“Dripping?”

“Um. Yes.”

“Like a dirty slut”, Even says with a yawn. “You get used to it.”

“You really should work on your pillow talk.”

“Nobody pays me for pillow talk but you.”

Isak shifts again. He is feeling uncomfortable, Even can tell. He’s all rigid and shit. Even has been paid for the week, and he has done his job sloppily this far.

“Allow me”, Even says. He slides down on the bed and dives under Isak’s leg. Isak tries to resist, sort of, out of misplaced modesty, but Even won’t have it. “Relax. I’m a professional.”

Even can see his cum glistening on Isak’s skin. It has made a little stain on the sheet, too. Even leans in and licks that off first. The taste of fabric makes his teeth hurt, but it’s not too bad. The taste of himself makes his dick stir. He flicks his tongue across Isak’s skin, making the man gasp.

“What are you doing?”

“Cleaning up after myself”, Even chuckles. “I told you to relax.”

Isak tries to press his thighs together, but because Even’s head is right between them it isn’t really working.

“But --”

Even places his hand on Isak’s stomach, stroking his skin. It’s okay. No need to fret.

“It’s hot. I love eating ass.” Well, he really doesn’t have an opinion on that, but when you’re with a client you love everything you do. No exceptions. “Now stop squirming and let me do my job.”

Isak’s thighs don’t relax, but at least he pulls them apart again. His knees are bent, and he is clenching the sheets in his fists. He has dripped a bit more, and this time Even licks his skin slower and stronger. Really giving him a taste. Giving them a taste. They taste great together.

Isak jumps when Even slips his tongue between his buttocks. Even presses Isak’s stomach a bit harder and gives it a little rub. Shh, shh, it’s okay. He waits for Isak to settle back down and licks him again, at the very same spot. This time Isak just draws in a sharp breath threw his nose. His legs twitch.

In some other circumstance Even might stop to consider why he is opting for eating ass instead of talking about love. With this man the choice is obvious. Even is not going to give this man an ounce of extra power over him. One could argue that eating someone out is an act of submission, but Even knows better. He has Isak right were he wants him now. Under his control.

Even pushes his tongue out of his mouth and runs it around Isak’s rim. It makes the man shiver and sigh, and hiss a little. This hole must still be feeling it, the effects of Even’s dick pushing into it over and over again. Even’s mouth is getting wetter at the thought of it.

When, exactly, is the point when you become a prostitute? Even is certain he had passed it by now, but he doesn’t know when. Was it tonight, when Even fucked this man? When he let this man fuck him? Maybe when he sat in the booth in a club’s bathroom, giving hand jobs through a glory hole? Or was it already back when he got on his hands and knees to collect money for the rent, for the first time?

Whenever it happened, it is now clear. Even isn’t an escort. He’s a prostitute. And he might as well be a good one.

Isak is starting to relax. He’s also breathing heavier, and muttering a profanity every now and then, through his fingers covering his mouth. Even is doing his best to caress him with his tongue. This hole has gone through a lot tonight, it has earned a little treat. Even works with the rim for a long time until he deems it relaxed enough and slips the tip of his tongue inside.

“What?!” Isak gasps, half sitting up. Even pushes his back down. Isak obeys, reluctantly, and his milky white thighs are shaking again. “Can you..do that?”

Even just hums. It’s hard to speak with half of your tongue inside someone. You totally can do this, and Even is doing this with enthusiasm. He is going to reduce mister Isak Valtersen into a whimpering, writhing mess, with just the magic of his hands and mouth. He would love to use his dick, too, but it’s too soon. It would hurt.

Bit by bit Even eases his whole tongue inside Isak. Isak is clenching the sheets again, but with a totally different vibe now. He is like a cat, kneading and purring. Even has him wrapped around his finger, oh yes he has.

After searching for a bit Even locates the lube. The click of the cap alerts Isak.

“What are you doing?”

Even pulls his tongue out and kisses Isak’s inner thigh.

“You’ll see. You’re going to love it.” Is that a promise or a demand? Maybe both. Even doesn’t stop to think about it further. He doesn’t stop to think at all. He just squirts some lube on his finger and eases it inside Isak.

“Even --”

Even presses his hand on Isak’s stomach again. Easy, easy. It’s just about to get good. Even pushes his finger further in, careful to not hurt Isak, and feels around for a bit. After all that rubbing with his dick earlier this should be easy.

“Even!”

Ahh. There it is. Even smiles, his face hidden between Isak’s legs, and bends his finger again.

“Fuck!”

“Maybe tomorrow. You need time to recover.”

Something soft hits Even’s head. It’s a pillow. Isak whacks him with it again.

“Fuck you, idiot! Don’t stop.”

Even doesn’t. He moves his finger slowly, bending it and pressing down at just the right part. It’s a delight to see what it does to Isak. How it makes his thighs shake, his body squirm, his dick get hard. Even encourages that erection with his mouth too. Magic, magic.

Isak is moaning now. With every push Even gives his prostate he makes a filthy little moan. Those are really addictive. Even wants to hear more of them, and louder, and he does his absolute best to pull them out of Isak. He isn’t disappointed. As he wraps his lips around Isak’s dick’s glistening tip Isak is basically making one continuous scream of pleasure.

That scream rises into a crescendo when Isak comes. He comes hard. He’s squirting into Even’s mouth like a fucking fire hose, his legs are up in the air, his back is arched and his head bent back. Even keeps going. He sucks on Isak as hard as he can, he keeps milking his prostate, making sure he will get every single drop.

“Holy fu-u-u-u-u-ck!”

Isak collapses on the bed. He is completely shattered now. Even tries pressing one more time, but it makes Isak jump and squeak in a way that’s not pleasure anymore. His work is done. He pulls his finger out and gives Isaks’ inner thigh one more little kiss.

“I’ll go wash my hands”, Even says softly. He’s certain that when he’ll return Isak will be sound asleep.


	33. Isak

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was super distracted while writing this, I hope it's okay. (Zero chill, people! Zero! Plus like 95 % of the times I'm unsatisfied with my work immediately after it's done, I wake up next morning to see it's good after all.)

Isak lies on the bed, staring at the ceiling. He can hear Even in the bathroom. Washing his hands. Hands that were inside him just now. Fingers, dick, tongue, fingers, all inside him for this long, never ending night that’s starting to feel more and more unreal each moment that passes. Surreal. Isak remembers how it felt in the blanket fort. Being gay in there. He’s feeling something similar now, in his post orgasm haze.

Even is not Jonas.

That is one of his best qualities, to be honest. Jonas is -- if Jonas walked in right now and kissed him, Isak couldn’t take it. He would die, or shatter. Jonas is too much for him. He has always been. Even obviously isn’t. Isak can take him.

Isak can buy him. That’s the main difference, really. Isak could give everything he owns and he couldn’t buy Jonas, because Jonas isn’t for sale. Not for him. Even is. Isak turns his head to look at the door. Even would appear through it soon. He would walk into Isak’s bed, because he belonged to Isak now. For a week. Longer, if Isak just paid him.

He does have enough money to have Even stay here forever.  That would be simple, wouldn’t it? Even would just stay. He would never leave, and Isak could be gay with him to his heart’s content. Whatever life Even has for himself, it could never measure up to all this, all Isak had to offer.

For a brief, high on hormones moment, Isak chooses to do just that. He would keep Even. Forever.

Even appears in the doorway and the moment passes. Isak can see his long lean figure, and he feels the lust rise up inside him. He wants that body. He wants more. He has just been fucked, his brains out, and licked and fingered, and he wants more of that body.

“Come here”, Isak says. HIs voice is low but powerful. Even obeys it. He walks to the bed and slides on it. All the way up to Isak, who wraps his arm and leg around him. Skin. Skin. Skin. Lovely, wonderful skin. Isak presses his cheek on Even’s flat chest, closing his eyes.

“Can you sleep like this?” Isak asks. Even hums. His chest vibrates softly.

“If I can’t sleep like this, I can’t sleep at all.”

Isak nods. His cheek is rubbing on Even’s chest. He wants more. He needs more.

“Are you sleepy?”

“To be honest I’m surprised you’re not.”

Isak sighs. He blinks slowly. He can feel his eyelashes brush against Even.

“I’m terrible at sleeping.”

Even chuckles.

“I’m terrible at most things.”

Isak presses tighter against him. He just kind of oozes on top of Even, like a blanket being pulled over him. Soon enough he is face to face with the naked man in his bed.

“Hi”, Even whispers. Isak blushes. For some reason.

“Hi.”

They don’t speak for a long time. Even doesn’t move, and neither does Isak. He just lies there, looking into Even’s eyes. Absorbing his skin, inhaling his scent. Isak is tired. He’s exhausted, but he’s not the least bit sleepy.

He’s awakened.

Isak guides Even to spread his arms slightly. He unfolds his own arms along them. Skin, skin, skin. Isak presses his palms on Even’s, his fingers on Even’s fingers, all the way up to the fingertips. Even lets him. He holds still and lets Isak do whatever he wishes to.

Isak wishes this night would never end. The night he lost his virginity to this man, for good. The night he discovered and embraced the longing inside him.

He touches Even’s nose with his nose.

He kisses Even. It’s soft, and slow, and warm. Their lips are embracing each other, like lovers reuniting after a long time apart. The hunger isn’t gone, but it’s different. It’s constant, like background music, or an echo. It lingers in the air after the kiss ends and Isak lowers his head on Even’s shoulder.

Even is breathing slower. And slower. Isak remains absolutely still. He’s letting Even fall asleep. He doesn’t need Even awake. He only needs Even’s body close to his, just like this.

Even doesn’t wake up when Isak slides off. He moves as slowly and silently as possible, just in case. The way his ass is hurting is also playing a part here. He has to move carefully, or he won’t be able to really move at all.

Isak gets out of bed and goes to the living room. He glances at the bar but walks past it, to the balcony door. He opens it. The cold air attacks him immediately, biting at every bit of his naked body. It doesn’t feel like he expected it to. He expected it to be unpleasant, or even painful, but it’s like he has a shield now. There’s only one pain present, and that’s more holding him together than tearing him apart.

Isak takes a couple of steps. The floor of the balcony is freezing cold under his bare feet. The wind catches his hair. The lights of the city look cold too. They look like most distant stars, or a sea of diamonds. Isak closes his eyes to really let the night air sting him, but it’s not. It’s nothing. He spreads his arms to take every hit, but in a moment he retreats back indoors. He closes the door, frowning slightly.

The bar has a small, sharp knife for cutting up limes and such. That’s really convenient. Isak doesn’t have to walk far to get a blade in his hands. The light is making the bottles glimmer, their contents reflected by the mirror. The sight is surprisingly similar to the one from the balcony, over the lights of the city. Isak places his hand on the bar. This was where Even lied, tasting the lime in Jonas’ mouth. It’s the perfect altar for this.

The blade catches the light briefly as Isak brings it on the back of his wrist. He’s too cowardly to cut on the inside. The knife is sharp, and it slides easily across his skin, making it split. Isak watches, almost uninterested, at the blood rising from the wound. He can barely feel anything.

He looks up at the mirrored wall behind the bottles and smiles.

“You can’t hurt me”, he whispers to his image. “Not anymore.”

Isak rinses the blade and wipes it dry. He licks the blood off his wrist. The cut is small enough, it’s stopped bleeding by now. It’s a really odd sensation. He can sense the pain, but he’s not feeling it. He’s immune.

“Your secret is out, bitch. You can’t hold it against me now.”

Isak turns the light off and leaves to return to the bedroom. On his way he stops by the fort. He looks at it, sighs quietly and grabs the blanket that’s working as the roof. He peels it off and folds it neatly on the back of the chair. Whatever happened in there has happened out here as well.

He makes a bed on the floor for himself, with the pillows and blankets. Not a nest, not a barricade between him and the world, just a bed. He lies down and crawls under a blanket, closes his eyes and falls asleep. Just like that.


	34. Even

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: ptsd (sort of), dissociation

Even isn’t surprised to wake up alone. He has taken over the whole bed, too, in a sort of diagonal situation, with some starfish added to the mix. This is a nice bed. It smells expensive. It smells like Isak Valtersen, sophisticated and pricey and unattainable. Untouchable.

Even has proven that wrong multiple times. Isak Valtersen not only can be touched, but he craves for it. At least someone is truly appreciating what Even has to offer. If you’re good at something, never do it for free. Even opens his eyes into the world where he is a real prostitute. He looks around. It looks the same as ever. Nothing has changed.

Not even him.

The apartment is quiet. If Isak is awake he isn’t doing anything interesting. Or he’s doing it in silence, which would make it more interesting. Crap. Everything is indicating that Even should get up and go take a look. What Isak is up to. Even decides that there’s a shot of high end tequila waiting for him at the end of that road and pulls himself out of bed.

He doesn’t bother getting dressed. Company would mean sound, and Isak has purchased everything Even has to offer. There’s nothing to hide. Even walks into the living room. The first thing he notices is the sunlight pouring in through the windows. It must have been a cold night, with a clear sky. This place is so high up that it gets sunlight even in the winter.

The second thing Even notices is that the fort is gone. It’s been turned into a neat pile of folded blankets and fluffed up pillows. There is a small stack of books on the corner of the desk. The titles are upside down. Even tilts his head to take a look, but they are all long words, and the books are obviously textbooks. Boring. The bar looks way more interesting anyway.

Even pours himself two shots of tequila into a tumbler. He shoves his head back with the gulp, and the warming sensation runs down his throat into his belly smoothly. Tequila is his favourite breakfast. It gives hime one hell of a buzz.

Now, where is his owner? Even looks around the room he’s in. No sign of Isak. He wasn’t in the bedroom either, and it’s likely he’s not in the closet. Pun not intended. Even chuckles at his own joke and heads for the bathroom.

As he opens the door he hears something. A little splash of water. Found you, master Valtersen. Even walks into the bathroom and stops when he sees Isak. He is in a bathtub, the biggest one Even has ever seen (it looks bigger now, when it’s in action), bubbles up to his chin and his eyes fixed on a book. There is no cover picture, only text. That must be a really boring book.

Isak doesn’t notice Even until he steps into the tub. The water splashes a bit, and some suds spill over on the floor. The water is still warm, but not hot anymore. Isak has been soaking in here for a while now.

“Hi”, Even says, with a little grin. Isak looks at him, confused, blushing. Even looks down. Oh. He’s semi. That’s not a bad thing, not at all. In fact he’s quite impressed by his ability to perform. Especially on an empty stomach and two shots of tequila.

“Mind if I join you?” It’s of course too late to ask. Even is already in here. He’s kneeling in the tub, and pressing his hands on the bottom, crawling over to Isak who is just staring at him with his lips cracked. Even knows lust when he sees it. He doesn’t stop until he is face to face with Isak, their bodies almost touching, and he takes the book from Isak’s hands. He drops it in the tub.

“What! You’re ruining it!” Isak tries to rescue his book. Even shoves it completely under water.

“Buy a new one. I’m sure it’s cheaper than I am.” Or, at least, that’s what Even is hoping. It would be a sting to hear a book is more expensive than he is. But apparently that is not the case, since Isak shuts up and blushes a bit more. Now that the obstacle between them has been removed Even comes closer. Close enough to kiss Isak.

Isak pulls away from the kiss rather soon.

“Is that tequila I’m tasting?”

“The breakfast of champions”, Even hums and kisses the side of Isak’s neck. Just under his ear, where there isn’t any soapy foam. Where it makes Isak shiver and sigh and close his eyes.

“This tub is nice and big”, Even hums, slipping to the side. He can fit next to Isak just fine. He slides his hand along Isak’s chest and stomach, under water, hidden by the bubbles, until he finds what he’s looking for. He finds it hard. “Mm, speaking of --”

Isak gasps.

“It’s not that big”, he mumbles. Even chuckles softly while he gives Isak’s hard dick a little tug.

“It’s perfect. I love all kinds of dick but yours is one of the nicest I’ve met.”

Even suffocates Isak’s further objections with his tongue. He shoves it in his mouth, and it’s welcomed there warmly. Isak whimpers into the kiss as Even tugs at his dick again, slower but firmer this time. So much more interesting than the book, oh yes he is.

Isak keeps stumbling in the kiss as Even starts jerking him off. He moves his hand up and down. The water is splashing to the floor, and Isak is sinking slowly as he keeps losing control of his body. Even wraps his free hand behind Isak’s neck just to make sure he doesn’t drown while getting a hand job from a prostitute. That’s like the most multi-millionaire way to go, ever, but Even would rather avoid all the hassle and paperwork. No matter how nice some mouth to mouth might be.

Isak grabs Even’s shoulder. He is moaning now. There is a new tone to his moans this time. It’s louder but not in volume. It’s like. Liberated, at least to a degree. Even leans his head on the edge of the tub and moves his hand faster. He wants to make Isak come. He wants to see Isak’s face up close when he comes.

Isak keeps sinking. His chin touches the water. His eyes snap open, wide and wild, and he makes a little yelp. Even gets knocked in the head by Isak’s elbow as Isak struggles his way out of the tub on the floor. For a moment Even ends up under water, his tequila buzzing head throbbing with sharp pain, disoriented and confused.

Even manages to get his head above the water. He breathes in a mouthful of bubbles at first. He gags and spits into the tub multiple times before he can finally recompose himself. He’s on his knees, in a tub, up to his waist in water and foam and turns to look at Isak, who has curled up on his side on the wet floor.

“Are you okay?” Even asks. Isak curls up tighter. He’s holding his own shoulders, shaking a bit. Not with cold, at least he shouldn’t be, the floor is heated. Something is wrong. Very wrong. “Isak?”

Isak shakes his head. At least that’s a response. Maybe he’s on a bad trip? Even had tequila for breakfast, but Isak might have popped some pills. He is rich enough to afford proper drugs, but maybe someone has conned him?

“I need you to say something”, Even says. He’s keeping his voice low but sturdy. Something for Isak to follow. “It doesn’t matter what. Say anything.”

Isak squeezes his eyes shut. He is still shaking. Maybe even more so.

“Isak. Say something.”

Isak’s lips crack. They move, but Even’ can’t hear anything. They keep moving, in rapid pace, chanting under Isak’s breath. Even reaches out his hand and touches Isak’s wet hair. It makes Isak jump back, but at least he opens his eyes. He’s not looking at Even. He’s not looking at anything. That’s definitely a bad trip.

“Isak you need to say something. I need to know you can understand me.”

Isak closes his eyes again. He’s not pressing his eyes shut so tight this time, and his grip on his shoulders lets go the slightest bit. His lips move again. It’s just one word, that Even can barely make out.

“Amen.”


	35. Isak

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: sorta dubcon, kind of

Isak kept his head under water even though the hands let go of his shoulders. His lungs were burning. He was seeing bright spots and green blobs through his closed eyelids. His spirit was cleansed through the suffering of his body.

Oliver shoved his fingers in Isak’s hair and yanked him up. Isak fell on his back on the floorboards, gasping and wheezing. The air was thick with incense and heavy breathing of frightened kids. The candlelight danced in the beams high above them. A straw of hay tickled at the side of Isak’s neck.

The others gathered around Isak. Girls and boys, between thirteen and sixteen, all of them looked worried and hungry in a way only a teenager doing something they’re not supposed to can. Oliver looked only scared.

“Isak! Are you trying to drown yourself?”

Isak closed his eyes. He didn’t see a light.

“No, father Oliver.”

One of the girls asked if Isak was okay. He nodded. He was okay. He was still here. He was still unclean. This game had been going on for a week now, and Isak knew he only had to try harder. He could be purified. He just needed a harsher shepherd than what Oliver could be. He had high hopes on tomorrow night when it was Kristian’s turn. He was the oldest of them, seventeen in December, and his name was definitely a sign. Kristian could save Isak’s soul. All he needed to do was look at Isak with his beautiful, hazel eyes, and Isak felt the presence of divinity.

Now Kristian knelt next to the old metal bathtub they had found from this barn and filled with water from the garden hose. It was freezing cold and probably contaminated with all kinds of nasty things from algae to tapeworms, but they were kids and didn’t give a shit. They were teenagers, and they shared a dangerous secret, and that made them immortal.

Father Oliver stepped behind Kristian.

“In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit I wash your sins away”, he chanted. He grabbed Kristian from the back of his neck and pushed his face into the tub. He held Kristian under water from the shoulders while the other kids chanted  _ God is great _ around them. Isak joined the choir. He sat up slowly, dripping with water, his eyes fixed on the bumps of Kristian’s spine protruding from the milky skin of his bare back.

Oliver kept Kristian’s head under there for a long time. He waited until the bubbles stopped, then he let go. Kristian hadn’t struggled, but the second he was released he yanked his head out of the water with a hungry gasp. Isak really wished he had been on the other side of the tub, to see his face. His lips open, his eyes wide, his wet hair stuck to his -- fuck. Fucking Oliver had pulled Isak out too soon. Coward.

Kristian was the last one. Now everyone had been baptised. They could begin the ritual. The cleanse. Isak was anxious to see what Oliver had come up with. It was like all of them were trying to one-up each other, and every night things got more intense. They were getting close to divinity, Isak was certain of it. The secret that forged them all together was rushing through his veins. He was feeling alive. These nights had been the only time he had felt alive in ages.

“Isak?”

Isak opens his eyes. The barn is gone. The summer camp is gone. It has been gone for years and years. He’s not lying on wooden boards, but on imported Italian designer floor tiles. It’s likely that one of them costs more than a week with the man who is leaning over him, his ridiculously sexy lips in a tight line and a worried wrinkle between his eyebrows.

“I’m okay”, Isak sighs. He sits up slowly. He strokes at the almost invisible line on his inner arm. The scar is so light that Isak has a hard time to see it himself, but he knows exactly where it runs. He hasn’t thought about it in a long time. He hasn’t thought about those nights in the Jesus camp either, they have simply seeped through like blood soaks up the  shirt around a stab wound.

“You don’t look okay”, Even says. Isak shrugs.

“Are you my rentboy or my therapist?”

Isak can hear how cold and sharp his own voice is. He isn’t looking at Even, he’s looking at the line on his skin that cut his heart in two years and years ago. He forgot about Kristian because he didn’t have a choice. It’s easy to forget something you’re not allowed to mention ever again.

He was too young and too fucked up to understand what was going on, but it is obvious now. Jonas is his first love, but Kristian was his first crush.

Isak’s lungs get the air knocked out of them as his back hits the floor. Even straddles him and bends down to kiss him. Isak is gasping on his lips. He’s rock hard, instantly. Even reaches over and grabs Isak’s dick. He guides it to his hole and sits down on it with a moan that’s more pain than pleasure.

Isak’s moan is all pleasure. Even is so tight like this. The way he is just taking it all is hot, and the sounds he makes are hotter. The hottest bit? His eyes. Even looks Isak in the eye, and Isak can see the fire, and the wrath, and then there is something he can’t make out through the smoke and the flames. Isak grabs Even’s thighs with his fingertips, helpless under the hungry rocking of Even’s hips.

Isak pushes Even back a bit, so he can sit up. He wraps his arms behind Even’s back, pulling him against his chest, and into another kiss. The shift in position makes Even moan louder. Hornier. He’s loving this. Just as much as Isak is. Sitting like this Isak can’t really move inside Even, but it feels great to just stay there. Even’s ass is milking at his dick rhythmically.

“Both”, Even gasps. He nudges his hips, making them both moan in unison. “I can be both.”

Isak almost laughs. Even is fucking insane. But he has had tequila for breakfast, and he is not what one could call a balanced individual in any case, and he is ridiculously hot. Everything about Even is so  _ much _ that it’s ridiculous.

“Right now, if you don’t mind”, Isak mumbles on the side of Even’s neck while nibbling at it with his teeth, “I would prefer the services of a rentboy.”

“I am much better at that. Give it to me, daddy.” With that Even squirms free from Isak’s embrace and leans away until he is on his back on the floor. He wraps his left leg around Isak’s waist and lifts the right one on Isak’s shoulder. Isak presses his hands on the expensive tiles on each side of Even’s body and starts thrusting into him.

With every thrust his memories are pushed further away. He’s living in the now again. And it’s not a bad place to live in. This beautiful man whimpering under him, his godlike body accepting every bit Isak is giving.

It’s wild. It’s beastlike. It’s over sooner than neither of them want it to be. Isak comes inside Even. It’s more of a closure than a climax. When it releases Isak of its grip Isak pulls out. He sits on the floor, leaning to the side of the tub, looking at Even who is just lying there. His dick is hard, his ass is dripping with semen and his chest is heaving, but otherwise there are no signs of lust to be seen.

Maybe this isn’t wicked, Isak thinks. But this is wrong. He pulls himself up from the tub’s edge and turns the knob. He watches the mountains of foam sink lower and lower until they’re resting on the bottom of the bathtub. He turns the water on and the suds get washed out into the sewer.


	36. Even

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope this matches the timeline of the previous chapters.

Even steps out of the shower reluctantly. He isn’t feeling like leaving the warm embrace of the rain shower, but he has already jerked off twice, and washed his hair, and he has run out of things to do. His owner must be getting tired of waiting around for him, too. Maybe. Isak stepped over Even and out of the bathroom a while ago, leaving Even to crawl into the shower and finish himself off, and try as he might Even hasn’t heard anything outside the bathroom.

Isak is probably reading again. Mister Smartypants McDickass. Why has he bought Even, if he doesn’t want to play with him? He is rich enough to pay for a week and play for a night, but that sounds a bit. Well. Rude. Isak Valtersen is a rude man, there’s no doubt of that. Even might still go find out what he’s up to, if only to bother him. Even turns off the shower and finds a towel to wrap around himself. Even has barely made it out of the bathroom when the intercom buzzes, making him jump.

“There is a young -- man, I suppose, asking for an Even, sir.”

Even recognises the doorman’s voice. Fucking pompous prick. His job is to answer the door, that’s not too high of a pedestal if you ask Even.

“I’m a man, asshole”, Mikael hisses from the background. Even’s eyes grow wide. Mikael? Here? How? Even is pretty sure he hasn’t told Mikael about mister Valtersen. He hasn’t. Even looks at Isak, who doesn’t seem too happy about someone asking for Even, here.

“I haven’t --” Even tries, but Isak waves his hand dismissively and presses the button to speak.

“What does he want?”

“I want to see Even! I will call the fucking cops on you if I have to!”

Isak raises his brow at Even.

“Feisty. Your boyfriend?”

Even shakes his head, suddenly mute. It was that question that took his voice from him. Mikael is not his boyfriend, has never been. Isak looks at him, carefully, and Even’s naked skin is crawling under that gaze.

“Let him up”, Isak says. Fuck! Even looks at him, horrified, and scampers to find his clothes. They could be cleaner, and smell better, but they’re going to have to do now. The elevator seems to be taking forever to climb up here. Even keeps his eyes fixed on the doors. Mikael is here. Here. Even’s dirtiest secret has been uncovered.

The door open. Mikael looks incredible. Even remembers buying that outfit, how hot he thought it would make Mikael look, and he was right. The pants enhance his ass in just the right places, and the cropped jacket allows it to be observed in its full glory. Mikael has braided his hair and put on a hint of lip gloss, and as Even realizes why his chest feels like being hit with a mallet. He has completely lost the track of days. For weeks now.

“Happy birthday, Even.”

Isak looks at Even, surprised.

“You never mentioned it’s your birthday.”

“I didn’t -- I don’t --”

“You have no idea what day it is”, Mikael says. His voice is soft, and calm, and Even can see right through it. Mik is on something.  _ Most of the time. _

That doesn’t make his words less true. Or less painful. He forgot his own birthday. He forgot about his yearly date with Mikael. The birthday boy’s birthday girl. They have been doing that for so many years, never missing a date, and now they would have, if it was up to Even.

“I’m sorry, we haven’t been properly introduced”, Isak says, walking to Mikael and holding out his hand. Mikael shakes it. “Isak Valtersen. Pleasure to meet you.”

“Mik”, Mikael says, pulling his hand back. He brushes a strand of his hair behind his ear with the same motion. “Just Mik.”

“Would you like something to drink, Mik?”

Even can only stare. Isak looks so sharp and distinguished. Like a real host. Even would love a drink, but he doesn’t dare ask for one. That might require moving, and he isn’t sure if his legs would hold him up.

“Do you have champagne?” Mikael asks, with a smile. Of course Isak Valtersen has champagne. He takes the bottle from the fridge behind the bar, and lines up three glasses. While Isak is pouring the drinks Mikael takes a little tour. He walks around the room, brushing his fingertips across the furniture, feeling the luxury.

He looks like he belongs here. Even sees his own reflection in the window, and he sticks out like a sore thumb. The second he has the thought he regrets it, but it’s obvious that Even has descended into a street walker while Mikael could be a high end escort.

Champagne versus body shots.

Even is pulled out of his thoughts by a glass Isak pushes into his hand. He empties it with two gulps. Isak has brought the bottle with him and gives him a refill before raising his own glass.

“A toast for the occasion. Happy birthday, Even.”

Mikael gets up on his toes and pecks a little kiss to the corner of Even’s lips.

“Happy birthday.”

Even empties his glass again and takes the bottle from Isak. It is good champagne. The bubbles are super tiny and the temperature is perfect. It almost feels like a waste to binge drink something this sophisticated. Isak Valtersen can afford wasting a bottle or two.

“So, Mik. I must say I’m surprised to have you visit here.”

Even almost breaks his glass from squeezing on it too hard.

“How did you find me?” Even asks. Mikael acts like it’s nothing, but he is blushing a bit.

“Just some old fashioned stalking, really.” Mikael sips his champagne, then puts the glass on the coffee table so Isak can help his jacket off. His top is a bit cropped, so the tips of his hip bones are peeking out alluringly when he moves.

“Oh? Have you sent spies to track me down?” Even’s throat feels dry. He tries drinking another glass of champagne. When he fills his glass one more time the bottle is empty. He places it on the floor.

Mikael laughs. It’s his party laugh, almost a giggle, so bubbly and lively. It makes Even’s chest feel tighter.

“Of course not. I tracked your phone. The one you gave to the cab driver. I’m sure you’re not surprised to hear that he remembered you, as well as where he dropped you off.” Mikael looks at Isak apologetically. “Usually Even is better at his job. But he probably didn’t feel like walking a block or two without shoes on.”

Isak doesn’t say anything. He probably isn’t comfortable talking about Even’s job. Mikael picks it up and turns to look at Even.

“Well, Ev. It’s your birthday, and you owe me a date. He can come too if he wants to.”

“I’m sure he has better things to do”, Even tries, but Isak interrupts him.

“I’d be honoured to join you. The date is also on me. Let’s call it a birthday present.”

Mikael smiles his most radiant smile.

“Let’s.”

Even brings his glass to his lips and pours the bubbly liquid down his throat without even tasting it. Happy birthday to him.


	37. Isak

Mik is dancing with his arms raised high above his head. That makes his shirt rise even higher, his waist line look even slimmer. Isak’s eyes follow the tanned curve absentmindedly. Mik is pretty, and he knows it, and he isn’t ashamed to flaunt it. He flirts openly with everyone willing, basking in the attention like it’s sunlight. Isak is sitting in a booth, his ankle resting over his knee, his fingertips on his chin, his focus on the dance floor.

Even is dancing too.

He isn’t as good at it as Mik is. His proportions are off, in the conventional sense, he is so tall. His limbs are so long. They would look excellent in something more expressive, like ballet, but on the dance floor with the writhing and the twerking going on around him he stands out.

There is a reason Isak doesn’t dance. He is almost as tall as Even is. And there is no way in hell he would do ballet.

Isak sips on his drink slowly. Even doesn’t really look like he’s having fun. Neither does Mik. Or, well, he does, he’s doing an excellent job giving the impression of a good time, but Isak can see them. The quick looks he exchanges with Even.  _ Are you okay? _

_ No I’m not. _

Mik turns his back to Even and steps against his chest. He’s rubbing his body on Even, while Even places his hands on Mik’s hips. His hands are so big they almost cover those dainty hips completely. They do look good together. They look like fun times.

Even leans in to say something into Mik’s ear. Mik nods, and as Even steps away from him he walks to the booth. Even seems to be heading for the bathroom, while Mik reaches out for his champagne glass and takes a delighted sip. He slides into the booth, right next to Isak, and Isak can smell his warm, glowing, slightly sweaty skin.

“You really don’t dance?”

Isak shakes his head. He does not. Especially in a place like this. It’s a small miracle nobody’s recognised him yet, despite him wearing the street clothes again instead of his normal tailored suits. And the company he’s keeping doesn’t look like his usual crowd, either. This is a club he has never visited before. It’s kind of making him a bit uneasy, too, this place is so obviously something that would be old fashioned to call a gay club. But Mik wanted to come here, and Even agreed to, so here they are.

At least the champagne is decent. Not great, but decent. Isak drinks some from his own glass. He sees Even step in through the door of the bathroom and disappear. Mik leans closer. He doesn’t look pleased.

“He doesn’t want to be here”, Mik says. Isak shrugs.

“You chose the place yourself.”

Mik places his hand on Isak’s knee. Isak looks at his fingers but doesn’t say anything. Yet. He doesn’t want a scene, and he’s certain this little firecracker would be more than happy to create one.

“That’s not what I mean. He doesn’t want to be there --  _ with you. _ Wherever ‘there’ is.”

Isak frowns a bit before he can stop himself. He should be more careful around Mik. The boy is perceptive.

“I’m not forcing him into anything.”

“Why hasn’t he come home? Why doesn’t he have a phone?”

Isak sighs. Is Mik seriously thinking he is holding Even hostage? It’s almost ironic, considering it is Isak who is feeling trapped with Even. He has to keep Even around, because he can’t part with him yet, for reasons he doesn’t wish to think about.

“I can purchase him a phone first thing tomorrow, if that is what he wishes.”

Mik eases his hand up Isak’s thigh. He is approaching the limit where Isak would have to ask him to stop, and he really doesn’t want to.

“That’s just it”, Mik says, leaning close enough for Isak to feel his breath on his ear. “Even isn’t capable of making his own decisions right now. Or is he taking his medication?”

Isak isn’t sure what Mik is talking about. Medication? Is Even sick? He hasn’t seemed so, but then again Isak isn’t a doctor. Or an expert. Or anyone to tell someone is sick, really, because of his blindness to his own disease.

“Not that I’m aware of?”

“I knew it!” Mik squeezes on Isak’s knee, not in a seductive way. “Look, Even needs to come home, no matter what he thinks he needs.”

Isak places his hand on Mik’s and removes it firmly. He’s done being touched now, thank you.

“He’s a grown man. He gets to make his own decisions.”

“You don’t get it! He’s not normal. He’s bipolar!”

Mik is right. Isak isn’t getting it. Mik is too near. He smells too pleasant, and he’s too agitated, and too pretty for his own good. Lip gloss, really? Provocation.

“And?”

“Look. He’s clearly having an episode. He loses control of himself, and his actions, and he gets. Well. He gets crazy. He can’t be held responsible, and he needs to be home where we can take care of him.”

Suddenly Mik jumps back. Isak feels someone sit down on his other side, and knows who it is. Even’s back. Did he hear something? At least he’s smiling, kind of. Isak maybe returns that smile. He isn’t sure.

“Did I interrupt something?”

“No!” Isak hurries to say, too fast. Way, way too fast. Even isn’t convinced. Isak empties his glass to buy himself some time. “Are you enjoying your birthday?”

Even makes a weird half shrug, that could mean anything. Isak knows what gestures like that mean. He leans a bit closer so Even can hear him.

“If I’m honest, this place isn’t much fun when you don’t dance. And their champagne could be better, as well.”

Mik scoots around the table and sits next to Even, blocking him from getting up and leaving. He leans his chin on Even’s shoulder.

“I want to dance. Let the sourpuss crawl back to his cave if he wants to. It’s your birthday, after all.”

Even smiles at Mik and pecks a little kiss on his cheek. He wraps his hand behind Mik’s back, on the bare patch of skin, the scent of which Isak knows.

“If you’re not having fun because you’re not dancing, maybe you should consider a dance, then?” Even holds out his hand to Isak. Isak looks at it, and his legs turn into lead. He can’t dance. Especially not with Even, and especially especially with Mik watching. Isak shakes his head.

“Absolutely not.”

“Your loss”, Mik says and slides out of the booth. He’s taking Even’s hand and pulling Even with him. Even looks over his shoulder at Isak, raising his brow. Isak shakes his head. No. He’s not coming. Definitely not.

Mik takes Even to the dance floor. This time he’s facing Even while he’s grinding against him. Isak can see Mik speak to Even, right to his ear. He can see Mik touch the side of Even’s neck, and Even’s ribs, his back, his chest. He can see Even laugh. They look so comfortable together.

Isak waves down a waiter and orders another round of champagne.


	38. Even

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This feels like a mess. I hope it's not.

It does feel good to be out. The sensory overload is in its own twisted way quite refreshing. The beat of the music, the colours, the lights, the movement, all the people. The arch of Mikael throwing his hair, the sound of his party laugh. All that is pushing into Even’s brain, filling it with stimuli, so there isn’t any room left for his thoughts. That’s good. The less he has to think, the happier he is.

The pill that guy kissed into his mouth in the bathroom probably has something to do with that, too. Even has no idea who that was, but he was cute and he had a pill on his tongue, and as Even felt it being pushed on his tongue he accepted it, and swallowed. It’s not the first time he has done something like that, but he has never needed a random pill from a stranger as much as tonight.

And he is the birthday boy, right?

Mikael pushes his body against Even’s again. Even looks down, into Mikael’s magical eyes, eyes that are so familiar and at the same time full of secrets. Mik places his hands on Even’s sides. Even takes Mik’s face in his hands. The braid has lost some more strands, but that only makes it cuter.

Even has missed partying with Mikael. He just remembers it being more fun. Even runs his hands down the sides of Mikael’s neck, down his shoulders, his back. Mik pushes himself closer. He’s fitting his movements to Even’s, so their bodies are moving as one, in a rolling wave.

“What are you doing?”

Mikael looks up at him. Even can see the promise in his eyes. It sets a heavy, warm stone in his stomach. Mik is looking pretty tonight, with his braid and lip gloss and his nice clothes nobody’s worn before him. From the way Mik is moving and looking at Even it really seems like he is offering to take them off for him.

That can’t be right. That is not right. This is Mikael, and he is Even, and he would be lying if he said he hadn’t dreamed about it, rather vividly at times, but. But.

Mikael runs his tongue along the inside of his lip. The tip peeks out, just a little, the tiniest bit.

“It is your birthday.” Mik presses his chin, still looking at Even, He tilts his head, too. He looks so nice tonight. He is still so close to Even. “I was thinking that. Maybe you’d like to take me to your room. Tonight? Maybe it’s time, you know?”

Even knows. Even knows what Mikael is talking about. He’s talking about what never was, and what never could be. While pressed against Even’s body, his hands on Even’s body, his glossy lips cracked. Mikael wants Even to take him to his room.

Wait. His room is back home.

Even steps back. He looks at Mikael, really trying to not look at him like a whore. By the look on Mikael’s face it’s not working out. After three most awkward seconds in Even’s life Mikael comes to his senses. He has stopped dancing. They both have. Mikael takes his hand.

“Even, come home. We miss you. I miss you. You’re not well, and you’re not safe with him.”

Mikael glances at the booth where Isak is sitting, watching them intently. Even’s fingers curl up into fists. He isn’t sure why he’s this angry.

“Of course I’m safe with him! He’s just a man, and I know how to deal with men.”

“You know how to trade with them, and that’s not the same.”

Mikael covers his mouth with his hand. Even takes another step back. They both know what is happening, and neither of them want it to happen. Yet they’re unable to stop it.

“Goodbye, Mikael. I love you.”

“Even, I didn’t mean --”

“Go home.” With that, Even turns his back on Mikael. He walks to the doors of the club, and out through them. He sees a cab and dives to the back seat. He needs to get out of here. Now. Even looks at the driver through the rear view mirror. “Why aren’t we moving?”

“Uh, well, sir.” The driver looks a bit flustered. “You haven’t told me where to go. And. Uhm. The door.”

“Is there something wrong with the door?”

“It’s still open, sir.”

Even turns to look at the door just in time to see Isak step in through it. Isak closes it after himself, too. Smart man.

“Oh, hello again!”

They both look at the driver, who turns to look at Isak over his shoulder.

“I hope your friend is alright.”

Isak looks shocked. But he recomposes himself quickly, giving the driver a polite nod.

“Yes. Thank you for your concern.”

“Don’t mention it. Where to, gentlemen?”

“I trust you know where I live”, Isak says. The driver gives them an awkward half grin.

“Yeah, everyone knows -- but I’d rather pretend I don’t. Less pressure to perform to an average customer than to Isak Valtersen himself. Sir.”

Even bites his lip. Isak Valtersen is someone even a cab driver knows well enough to know where he lives. He is powerful. He is in his element now, ordering people around. The part of Even that has forgotten Isak is paying him remembers everything now. It’s a painful memory. Especially after Mikael reminded him that he sees it as well. What Even has become.

The cab takes off, joining the traffic. Isak leans back in his seat, looking out the window. Even can’t breathe. His chest is feeling tighter by each breath he’s taking. Here he is, in a cab, delivered like merchandise which he kind of is.

“Are you alright?”

The driver is looking at Even through the mirror. The cab is standing in the red lights, and Even’s hand is resting on the door handle. If you can call that cramping grip resting.

Isak turns to look at him as well.

“Am I holding you against your will?”

That question makes the driver look worried. Someone behind them honks their horn twice before they start moving again.

“No”, Even finally says. “To both of you.”

The silence fills up the cab, heavy and dark. Even lets go of the handle. Where the hell would he go? He can’t go home. He doesn’t have any money, or a phone, and he’s too exhausted to try and find someone willing to pay for a blowjob. Whatever that pill he took was, it doesn’t seem to work for long.

“What’s your name?”

Even looks at Isak, confused. Then he notices Isak isn’t talking to him.

“Magnus, sir. People call me Mags.”

“Which do you prefer to be called?”

The driver shrugs.

“I don’t really have a preference. Both work.”

“Well, Magnus. Today is Even’s birthday.” Isak gestures at Even. Magnus smiles.

“Congratulations. I hope you’ve had a fun birthday?”

Even almost bursts out laughing. Almost.

“For starters, I’ve been on a bender long enough to forget it was my birthday.” Even can’t help it, he lets out a little giggle. This is so absurd. His life doesn’t make any sense. It hasn’t made sense ever since he met Isak Valtersen. “Then my best friend tracked me down to set a trap for me. Not a fun kind, either.”

Even has to stop talking because he can’t breathe from his laughing. He can’t stop laughing. He looks at Isak, through tears all his laughing has pushed from his eyes, pleading. He can’t stop. It hurts, and he can’t breathe, and he’s just about to cross the line between laughing and crying and then Isak kisses him. The kiss tastes like salt. Someone honks their horn behind them again, and as Even opens his eyes to look he sees Magnus is staring at them through the mirror, his mouth open. Isak Valtersen is kissing some guy on the back seat of his cab. This day is full of surprises now isn’t this?

Isak keeps kissing him until he stops shaking. The honking has stopped, so apparently Magnus has recovered as well. Even tries to focus, he really tries, but his brain is like fireworks. Popping and flashing and crackling against the black, dark sky. As Isak pulls away from the kiss Even can see them reflect from his eyes.

“Will you come with me?” Isak asks. He isn’t commanding, he’s actually asking. The possibility of a no makes Even want to say yes. So he does. Isak kisses him again.


	39. Isak

Wait. How long has the car not been moving?

Isak opens his eyes and stops kissing Even. Even’s lips try to catch his, but Isak places his hand softly on Even’s collar bone. Easy, easy. Soon. Isak turns to look out the window, and he doesn’t recognise the surroundings immediately. Then he realizes they’re in an alleyway on his block.

Magnus is staring out the windshield very intently. But he must hear they have stopped kissing, because he makes a nervous glance at the mirror and jumps a bit when he sees Isak looking at him. He also blushes. Deeper.

“Sorry, sir! I didn’t mean to peep.”

“It’s alright”, Isak says automatically. His manners come straight from his spine, he doesn’t need his brain to be working for that. “Have we kept you for long?”

“We got here about ten minutes ago. When you didn’t. Uhm. Seem to care, I decided to move into a more discreet location to give you some privacy. The back had dark windows, but the windshield is just a normal windshield and --” Magnus was interrupted by a loud, growling sound. His eyes grew wide. “Oh, I’m so sorry, sir! I skipped dinner today.”

Now that Magnus mentions it, Isak doesn’t recall when he has eaten a proper meal last. He turns to look at Even, and sees the hunger on his face, too. They are hungry. They should eat.

“I have a chef on duty at all times”, Isak says. “I’d be more than happy to compensate for your time if you join us for a late dinner.”

Even raises his brows but doesn’t object. As if tonight hasn’t been already unorthodox.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, but I have my favourite sandwiches packed for tonight, and they won’t be good tomorrow.” Magnus looks almost flustered. He’s talking fast, near blabbering, and Isak can’t help but smile at him. Bless this guy, really.

“It’s okay. I hope you have kept your meter running while waiting for us to finish.”

“I -- I forgot to turn on the waiting rate.”

Of course he did. Bless him. Isak takes his wallet and hands over his card.

“Can you add it to the bill?”

“Tamper with the meter? I would never!”

Isak sighs.He turns to look at Even, who is doing his best to not. Hm. Isak doesn’t know what Even is trying to keep himself from doing, but it is straining him.

“Do you have cash on you?”

Even looks at him slowly. Then shakes his head.

“Oh no, sir. It’s okay. It has been only fifteen minutes, I’ll just eat my sandwiches faster than normal and I can catch up easily.”

Isak frowns. But he can’t force the man to take his money. Magnus gives him the pin pad, and he punches the numbers in, takes his card and the receipt with it. This isn’t right. Someone doing him a favour without waiting for anything in return.

“Do you have a direct number I can call when I need a cab?”

“Sure! Here, have my card.” Magnus takes one from behind the sun visor. Isak accepts it and slips it in his wallet. “Have a good night, gentlemen.”

Even snickers. Isak touches his knee quickly. Hush now, gentleman. Magnus doesn’t need to know about their business relations. He probably couldn’t take the information without getting an aneurysm or something.

Magnus has driven away in his cab when Isak realizes he didn’t ask him to be discreet concerning the events in the back seat. His heart skips a couple of beats, then he looks at Even and it starts fluttering instead. They can trust Magnus with this secret. This, or any secret.

“What would you like to eat?”

Even grins. He steps closer to Isak, the back of his hand brushing at Isak’s fly.

“I have a thing in mind. Rather substantial.”

Isak rolls his eyes.

“We need food. It’s your birthday, so you get to choose.”

“Technically, it’s not my birthday anymore. Thank god.”

“Just pick, please. It can be anything.”

Even considers for a moment. Then he nods.

“I want fries. From McDonald’s.”

Isak stares at him in disbelief. They were in a cab mere minutes ago. They could have driven to get some.

“I don’t have a personal McDonald’s restaurant in my building”, Isak says. Even laughs.

“To be honest, I wouldn’t have been surprised if you did.”

For some reason Isak is almost embarrassed.

“Is there something you’d like to eat that my people could make?”

“I don’t know. I want something with carbs, fat and salt. Something that’s super bad for me.”

“Sounds great. Let’s get inside and order up something like that.”

Isak takes Even in through the garage. He tells himself it’s because that door is closer to them. Not because he doesn’t want to be seen entering the building with Even. Besides, does it matter, really? He has a right to privacy, doesn’t he? He takes Even’s hand in the elevator. Even doesn’t pull his hand away.

When they get back Even heads straight for the scotch. He pours two drinks, but Isak doesn’t take his.

“We should eat, not drink.”

Even sighs, deep. He glances at Isak, then turns his eyes away.

“Look. I can’t do this sober. I need to keep the buzz going, and you can take it off my rate if you think that’s necessary.” Even empties his glass, then takes the one he poured Isak. To Isak’s relief he doesn’t drink it right away.

“I don’t think that’s necessary.” Isak goes to the intercom and places their order. Something fatty, salty and loaded with carbs, and quickly, thank you. While waiting, Isak gets himself a can of coke from the bar fridge. The fizzy, sugary liquid tastes divine.

“You don’t have to tell me, but I’d like to know”, Isak says, looking out the window, over the city. “What happened with you and Mik?”

“You’re right. I don’t have to tell you.”

Isak nods at the lights of Oslo. Very well. They need to eat, and then catch some sleep, and then they can continue with their business transaction normally. Isak can enjoy Even’s company and his. Well. His whatever. Even can keep his buzz going.

The scent arrives before the food elevator does. It smells delicious. Rich. Isak’s stomach makes a loud growl and he hurries to get their dinner. He opens the hatch and finds six perfectly golden brown, crispy grilled cheese sandwiches that seem to be stuffed to oblivion. He can smell truffles, and his mouth is watering.

“You’re in for a treat”, Isak says, taking the platter to the coffee table. He sits down next to it, on the floor, and grabs a sandwich. Their smell has lured Even in too, and he sits down on the opposite side of the table. Isak takes the first bite and closes his eyes. It’s so good. So, so good. By the sounds Even is making he is enjoying his meal as well.

Three sandwiches is one too many, and right now that’s the perfect amount. Isak covers his mouth with the back of his hand and makes a little burp, then he simply topples over on his side, cradling his full belly.

“You were so right”, Isak sighs, satisfied. “Carbs, fat and salt. Just what I needed.”

Even licks his fingertip and gathers the crumbs from the platter on it, humming.

“I must admit I’m feeling a lot better. Thank you.”

Isak rolls slowly on his back. He is so wonderfully stuffed. He’s going to be so sick tomorrow, but right now it feels worth it.

“Pleasure is all mine.”

Even hums softly as he’s moving around the table towards Isak.

“Care to spare me some of that, too?”

Isak waits, patiently, while Even crawls over him. He’s lying on the floor beneath Even, between his hands, looking up. From life of leisure to life of pleasure. That is a welcome change indeed.


	40. Even

Finally Isak dozes off. Right here, on the floor, partly under Even, practically mid-kiss. His lips simply move slower and slower against Even’s, until they stop moving altogether, and that’s Even’s cue to stop. He brushes his lips quickly at the corner of Isak’s mouth and pushes himself up from the floor. He takes a blanket that must be cashmere from the back of the armchair and spreads it over Isak.

He needs a drink. Or a line of coke, or a pill or two. Or some dick. He needs something to keep his thoughts at bay. Seeing Mikael tonight was too much. Way, way too much, and what’s the worst is that Mikael is right. He is not well. He hasn’t been well in a while.

Fuck, he hasn’t been well for years.

Even steps behind the bar and picks a bottle at random. Raspberry vodka. He screws the cap open and takes a sniff. Smells like vodka. With a hint of berry. Just as one should expect, really. Even takes a shot glass and fills it up to the brim with one, sloppy twist of his wrist. The liquor burns his throat as he downs the shot. He grimaces and pours himself another one.

He’d be alright. All he has to do is keep the buzz going. Then he’ll go home, buy himself off the hook with ten grand and hide in his room for a week to recover from everything. Then he’ll get a job. A real job. He can’t do prostitution anymore, not after this week. The glamour is gone.

Even entertains the thought of letting Isak Valtersen hook him up with a job. Then he laughs at himself. Bitterly.

He takes the bottle with him to the balcony. He looks over the sleeping city. He remembers the moment when he had Isak Valtersen’s life in his hands. Literally. The sheer terror he felt seeing Isak lean into the abyss. The simple trust Isak had that Even would hold on.

Was it trust?

Even steps closer to the railing. And closer. He leans over it to take a look down. The ground is so far away that in this darkness it doesn’t look real. Isak wasn’t scared when he stood on the railing. He simply didn’t care if he fell or not. He would have been happy either way. Or, equally unhappy.

It’s cold out here. The wind is freezing, and the floor is making his feet numb. Even strokes at the railing gently, takes a long swig from his bottle and steps back. Not tonight. His business is unfinished. Isak is paying for the week.

Isak wakes up when Even returns inside. He makes a small sound, and shifts, and opens his eyes. His yawn is so small and cute.

“Did I fall asleep?”

Even hums. He takes the vodka back to the bar. Two shots and a big gulp are enough to keep his buzz intact for now.

“Yeah. It’s late.”

Isak sits up and wraps the blanket around himself. He leans his back against the arm chair, yawning again.

“Do you want to go to bed?”

Even shrugs.

“You’re the boss. I go where you tell me to.”

A small wrinkle appears between Isak’s eyebrows.

“Since I’m the boss, I’d like you to stop reminding me about my position. And yours.”

Oh, Isak Valtersen wants to play house. Sure. It’s only a couple of days more.

“That’s going to take more effort. Are you willing to pay for my efforts, mister Valtersen?”

Isak looks almost hurt. That’s equally puzzling, scary and satisfying. Seeing Isak compose himself makes Even recognise the expression that was on Isak’s face when Mikael was around. That’s Isak’s business face. A shell, made of thinnest glass.

“Of course. You’re a professional, and a fair payment for your efforts is due. How much, for this to be our final conversation of this nature?”

Even can see through the glass. He could have asked for anything. Another ten grand. A hundred grand.

“A million kroner.”

Isak’s jaw drops. He stares at Even, trying to figure out if he is serious. He is. Dead serious. He would play house with Isak Valtersen for the rest of this week, but it would cost a million.

“Or I can keep reminding you about our position, and you won’t need to pay me more than we have already agreed on.”

Now this is what Even would call a buzz. He can almost feel the power he’s having over the most powerful man in Oslo. It’s vibrating in the air between them, near visible. Isak wants this so bad, and he can afford it easily, but it will change everything. It will strip off the layer of reality. Like pulling off a band aid that’s been stuck on the scab.

Everything in this world is for sale, if the price is right. The price for the possibility of anything real between them is one million kroner.

To be honest, that’s surprisingly lot even if you ask Even. But he has named his price. Now all he can do is wait if Isak accepts or rejects it. He can see Isak really consider it. The glass is starting to crack.

“No”, Isak finally says, so quietly that if Even wasn’t watching him he would have missed it. “That’s too much.”

It’s not, and they both know it. Even didn’t expect the rush of relief Isak declining his offer creates. It washes over him and leaves his knees feeling a bit soft. He’d better take a seat. He walks to the arm chair Isak is leaning on and crawls over him to sit down in it.

Isak turns slowly around to face him. He is on his knees on the floor, between Even’s legs. He slides his hands up Even’s legs and to his thighs. Even reaches his hand over to Isak’s cheek and wipes the glass away with his thumb. He presses lightly along the edge of the bottom lip.

There is a question in Isak’s eyes. Even answers it with a nod. He slides his hips a bit forward, sinking into the chair. Isak rolls his shirt up a bit to reveal a strip of skin for him to kiss. Even pushes his head back and closes his eyes.

Isak rubs his hand slowly over Even’s crotch. It feels nice. It feels really nice. Isak’s been getting more comfortable with the thought of touching a dick, and Even can feel it in his movements. In the air, as well. It’s less terrified and curious, and more determined. Isak knows what he wants, and he’s getting okay with wanting it.

He’s also getting better at this. Even is already full on hard by the time Isak takes his dick out. Isak moves his hand slowly up and down along it, feeling the weight and substance, the warm hardness. Even can hear his breathing is getting faster. He can hear the hunger.

Isak’s mouth is wet and slick. It envelopes the tip of Even’s dick, making him let out a soft sigh of pleasure.

“Take it”, Even whispers, softly but out loud. Isak makes a little, slightly suffocated moan, and pushes his head lower. Even slides into his mouth, along his tongue, the roof of his mouth, and he’s breathing heavier too. “Suck it.”

Isak does. He sucks on Even’s dick. Even opens his eyes and pushes his fingers into Isak’s hair. This is such a pretty picture. Even slips the blanket off Isak’s shoulders to reveal their beautiful shape for him to look at. He moves his hand in Isak’s hair, guiding his head. It feels so good. Sitting in this designer chair in a penthouse, with Isak Valtersen on his knees, sucking on his dick. Power. Right now Even is the most powerful man in Oslo, and he likes the feeling. He likes it a lot.


	41. Isak

Isak Valtersen is on his knees sucking a prostitute’s dick, and he likes the feeling. He likes it a lot. Even’s hand in his hair feels powerful, Even’s dick in his mouth feels hard and commanding. A part of Isak hopes to choke on it, that Even would simply grab his hair and fuck his face relentlessly. The thought makes Isak’s abs tighten up for a moment. His own dick twitch. His mouth get wetter.

Isak lets his thoughts run through his head without really paying attention to them. He thinks about all the boys he has wanted to do this to. That list is short. Kristian. Jonas. Even. Isak isn’t too sure about Kristian either. Can you lust after someone in hindsight?

Even sighs softly. Isak focuses on that sigh. On Even’s breathing. He is determined to make that faster, to take it away. He wants it. He wants to keep it in a box, or a bottle, that he can press against his ear or the side of his neck.

Isak makes a tiny little moan when Even grabs his hair tighter. To encourage him. It works, Even slips his other hand in Isak’s curls as well, and holds  his head still. Yes. Yes. Isak is almost shaking. His knees are starting to hurt a bit, but he doesn’t care. All he cares about is making Even come.

Even has to force Isak to let go of his dick. Isak is left gasping and empty. His eyes closed, his mouth open. He’s waiting. He’s hoping. He’s rewarded moments later. Even groans and comes, on Isak’s face. Isak can feel it run down his cheek and feels so filthy. Powerless. He has heard it over and over again, how men in position of power long to have that power taken from them, and he has to admit he is annoyed to be a cliche.

But it does feel wonderful.

Isak opens his eyes slowly. He looks at Even from his feet. Still on his knees. Even’s semen all over his face. The contrast to the man he was in Mik’s company is so strong it’s nearly ridiculous. That was Isak Valtersen, while this. This is just Isak. Who looks at Even in his beautiful blue eyes and wipes the cum from his face with his fingertips. He pushes his fingers in his mouth and sucks them clean.

Even reaches out his hand and brushes Isak’s cheek with the back of his fingers. Isak closes his eyes in shame. He remembers the night he touched Even like this, Even who was on his knees in front of him, surrounded by people who couldn’t wait to shred Even to pieces. Which they did. Because Isak allowed it.

“I’m sorry”, Isak whispers. Even’s hand pulls back. Isak opens his eyes again to look at him. Try as he might, he can’t read Even’s face. It doesn’t matter. “I needed to know.”

Even isn’t stupid. He can figure out what Isak means. What he needed to know. Isak can see it, the thought forming inside Even’s mind, and he can see the detestation. Even despises them. He despises Isak Valtersen, and Isak can’t blame him. Nor does he want to.

“You fucking cunt”, Even whispers. He grabs Isak’s hair and turns his face up. Isak allows that. He can feel the hand in his hair shake. “You arrogant bastard. You used me.”

“We had an arrangement”, Isak says. “I paid you for your troubles.”

“Barely”, Even scoffs. He pushes Isak away and wipes his hand on his his thigh. “Ten grand is nothing to you. You earn that much during an inhale.”

“More”, Isak says. “Much more. I get richer with every breath I take.”

“But a million is too steep for you.”

Isak looks up at Even again. He still can’t read that angelic face. He’s too blinded by its beauty.

“It’s not. I have ten times as much in the vault, cash, right now.”

“So it’s just too much for someone like me? Is that it? I get it, there’s no point in paying a million for a ten grand whore.”

Isak sits back on his heels. His knees are seriously hurting by now. It barely registers.

“That’s not. No. You’re wrong.”

Even presses his palms on the arm rests and pushes himself up. He steps past Isak and heads for the bar. Isak’s legs have turned into lead. He can’t get up.

“Of course. Sir.”

Isak closes his eyes. Even is being cruel, but it’s nothing more than a payback. It’s nothing Isak doesn’t deserve. He has been a fool.

“Fine”, Isak says, defeated. He hears a bottle cling against the rim of a glass. At least Even is using a glass.

“Fine what?”

“One million. Or ten. If you want more it will require paperwork, I don’t have more cash at hand.”

All Isak can do is hope Even doesn’t take it. That he would say that money isn’t important, that he’s finally understood how love, love is the most valuable thing in existence and even the slightest chance, no matter how slim, of there ever being love between them is something not worth selling, because love is something that can’t be sold or bought, just given. Only given.

“If I want more?” The bottle lands on the bar. Even picks up the glass and empties it with two gulps. “How much more?”

“My net worth is about seventeen billion.”

Even scoffs.

“As if you’d trade your entire property for two days.”

“Maybe not.” Finally Isak turns his legs to the side to give his knees a rest. He doesn’t get up from the floor. “But there’s no point in asking for more than I own.”

Even scoffs again.

“Your money doesn’t impress me. I know how little you are able to enjoy it.”

Isak’s heart feels like it should be racing, but it’s dragging its feet instead. The beat is slow. Slowly with great expression, adagio.

“Maybe you’d like to show me, then? How to enjoy my money?”

Money is nothing. Power is empty. Isak knows that now, now that they both have understood he can’t buy Even. They thought he could, but they were wrong.

“You’re not making any sense. You’re drunk. Go to bed, mister Valtersen.”

“No”, Isak says. “We’re in the middle of negotiations here.”

Isak stays on the floor but turns to face Even. Even is sitting on the bar, his long legs almost touching the floor, pouring himself another shot of bourbon. His aim is getting bad.

“We are?”

“Yes.” Isak can hear his voice. How it cools down by several degrees. It’s his business voice, and he hates the sound of it. “With certain restrictions, I am willing to give you control over my entire property, to use it however you please, for the rest of your stay with me. And in return, you will do everything in your power to act like we are in a real relationship, not a commercial one.”

Isak couldn’t buy Jonas with a million. Maybe seventeen billion would be enough? He knew it wouldn’t be for Jonas, Jonas would rather die, but Even was. Well. It had been established several times, that Even was  _ for sale. _

Even stopped pouring half a second too late. He licked his hand clean of bourbon only to spill some more from his glass, filled to the brim. Fuck it, he said inaudibly, and emptied the glass in his mouth and on his shirt.

“Which restrictions?”

“Well”, Isak said, licking his lips. He could almost taste the bourbon. “I have workers. Good people with families. You’re not allowed to do anything that would make them out of work or otherwise weaken their conditions. Improvements are okay.”

Even nodded. He didn’t seem to disagree.

“And?”

“You’re not to abuse the power that kind of property makes to intentionally bring harm to anyone. Hurt people with your own money, not mine.”

“Hey, ten grand can buy a lot of pain.”

Oh, Isak knew. He knew.

“I am excluded from that clause.”

That really got Even’s attention. He slid down from the bar, his head cocked, his eyes fixed on Isak.

“Oh?”

“Yes. Feel free to hurt or harm me in any way you see fit.”

“If you want kinky shit you can get it way cheaper and from people who are better at it.”

“I’m not interested in -- kinky shit. I’m just saying, that sometimes, in a relationship, people get hurt.”

Even presses his chin and reaches back, grabbing the edge of the bar.

“You don’t say.”


	42. Even

_ I needed to know. _

Even is back there again. On his hands and knees on the floor, pretending it’s just for the money, and some good money, pretending it doesn’t matter. Pretending he hasn’t heard all those words before. That he hasn’t said them all to himself, over and over again, in the dark.

He knows he’s worthless. He knows that ten thousand kroner equals nothing to Isak Valtersen, and he knows that’s exactly what he is to this man.

_ My net worth is about seventeen billion. _

Seventeen billion. Even can’t count that far. His brain understands what seventeen is, and what a million is, but a billion is something that simply doesn’t exist in his world. And Isak Valtersen is worth seventeen of those, while Even is a ten grand whore. Who pretends to not mind that.

_ Maybe you’d like to show me, then? How to enjoy my money? _

What?

No, excuse me, really, what?

What the fucking what?

_ And in return, you will do everything in your power to act like we are in a real relationship, not a commercial one. _

No. That doesn’t make sense. Doesn’t Isak know how fucking terrible Even is with money? How can he think that he’s making a deal that’s even remotely balanced?

_ I am excluded from that clause. _

Even licks his lips quickly, from the inside. He tilts his head and slides down from the bar. He’s suddenly feeling interested. Seventeen billion is something abstract, money is something he can’t handle, but a man? That’s familiar territory.

“Oh?”

“Yes. Feel free to hurt or harm me in any way you see fit.”

Ah, well of course. Even should have known it from that blowjob. Isak Valtersen wanted to be dominated. What a fucking cliche.

“If you want kinky shit you can get it way cheaper and from people who are better at it.”

“I’m not interested in -- kinky shit. I’m just saying, that sometimes, in a relationship, people get hurt.”

Fuck, that actually stings. Because if Even knows something, it’s that in a relationship people do get hurt. He presses his chin and reaches back, grabbing the edge of the bar for support. His hands want to shake too much, and they’re not listening to him.

“You don’t say.”

Isak looks so small there, on the floor. Even remembers his cute yawn, though now is so not the time to think about that. Or anything else that makes him soft. This is, as Isak Valtersen said, a business transaction. Even bites the inside of his cheek to keep his face in control.

“When should I start my act?”

It hits. When Even reminds him it’s an act, Isak flinches visibly. Good. Serves him right for buying Even. Even doesn’t want to sell, but he knows he has no choice. The offer is too good. Seventeen billion, and free reign over the man he -- he doesn’t know how to finish that thought.

He supposes this will be some sort of a payback.

“Do you wish to sign documents or something? Or do you trust that I will accept any and all transactions, agreed exceptions excluded?”

“Fuck documents. I can trust your word, right?”

Isak nods. He looks like a dog down there, his whole being wanting to please Even in any way it can. As if he could. Even has now seventeen billion kroner in his disposal. Why isn’t he pleased?

“So, should I start now?”

Isak hesitates. Even can see his insecurity, written all over his face, and his body. He looks almost small. He’s so tall that it’s an impressive feat. If Even wasn’t watching Isak this closely he would have missed his nod.

Even closes his eyes. He visualises the yawn, the cutest yawn he’d seen in ages, and when he opens his eyes and looks at Isak his eyes are warm. He can do this. Isak is so deprived for love, fucking idiot, that Even can feed him mere crumbs to keep him happy.

Isak looks at him so bare. He’s completely open, and raw, and Even almost feels bad for him. Almost. But he does feel something. Like an urge.

“Hey, babe. Should we get to bed?”

Isak blushes. Isak Valtersen wouldn’t have, but Isak’s not him anymore. Even is. That thought is still too big to really think about. He’ll return to it in the morning. Now he returns to Isak, and holds out his hand. Isak takes it.

Even pulls Isak up from the floor. They stand close together. Even isn’t much of an actor, but he can pretend like his life depends on it. He can swallow his anger, over and over again. He can behave. He looks into Isak’s green eyes and leans in for a little kiss.

It’s so fucking soft. Even kisses Isak as gently as he can, and Isak surrenders to that kiss completely but so, so timidly. He wants Even to pretend, but is he pretending himself? He must be. He’s Isak Valtersen, seventeen billion kroner man, and those men don’t fall for hookers except in classic cinematic masterpieces.

Even lets the kiss run out and opens his eyes. He pushes his fingers in Isak’s hair to play with the curls. He keeps his face soft.

“So. That bed?”

Isak nods. He’s still blushing. He must be doing it on purpose, rude bastard.

“Okay.”

Even takes Isak’s hand and walks him to the bedroom. He really likes this bed. The mattress is to die for. The bed linens are sublime. And the company -- let’s just say Even’s not complaining as he slides Isak’s shirt up along his sides. Isak Valtersen is a beautiful man. A complicated, beautiful man.

This won’t be too bad. Tomorrow Even will wake up refreshed and wealthy. Really fucking wealthy. All he has to do to make that happen is keep Isak happy. Even pulls Isak’s shirt over his head and lets it drop at their feet on the floor. He kisses Isak’s shoulder line. From his shoulder towards his neck. He keeps going, over the little bird’s nest between Isak’s collar bones, then along his other shoulder. Isak is breathing heavier. Even decides to stop thinking now. He’s too drunk, and it’s too late, and he’s too rich to think. Besides, he’s busy.

Even unfastens Isak’s pants and bends down to pull them to his ankles. Isak steps out of them. As Even guides Isak on his back on the bed Isak bites his lip.

“I -- I don’t -- I’m tired”, Isak whispers. He sounds so disappointed. Even hums, as softly as he can. He’s Isak’s boyfriend now, his lover, his partner, and it’s his job to soothe Isak when need be.

“We can get back to it tomorrow”, Even says. He gives Isak’s chest a slow, lingering kiss, then stands up to get undressed himself. While he does that, Isak hurries to hide under the covers. It’s endearing, and odd. Even thought he could handle this job - because that’s what this is, a job - easily.

He should have guessed that no job with this kind of pay is easy.

Even slips into the bed next to Isak. Isak hurries to cuddle up against him. Even welcomes him. He pulls Isak closer, wrapping his arms around him, and kisses him one more time.

“I love you”, Even whispers. It makes them both pause. They stop moving, they stop breathing. Isak is the first one to continue. He makes a long, shivering sigh, and curls up closer to Even.

“I love you”, Isak whispers back. At least he seems to be committed to the illusion. Even is certain Isak knows a thing or two about pretending, as well.

Even kisses him again. It’s soft. It’s gentle. It’s kind of sleepy. Even has kissed Isak to sleep already once tonight, and he doesn’t mind repeating the process. Kiss after kiss Isak relaxes more and more, slowly drifting off.


	43. Isak

Isak opens his eyes. The bedroom is dark, but the light seeping through the door helps him see the man beside him. Even. He’s still asleep, his face completely relaxed. Isak stares at it, from up close, carefully. He looks exhausted.

Isak looks past that. He looks at how soft Even is. His hair, the bounce, the fluff, the silk. His skin. The thinnest peach fuzz on his cheeks. His lips, the fullness and pout, the beautiful shape Isak just wants to kiss over and over again. Soft, soft, soft. Because right now Isak can’t see his eyes.

No. They were soft last night. When Even started working. They were so soft, and Isak could feel it all over his body. He was wrapped in the warm cloud of Even’s affection, and he still feels it around him like a lingering hug. Even is good. He is worth everything Isak is paying him.

Yes. Everything.

Isak closes his eyes for a bit to listen to Even’s breathing. It’s steady and slow, peaceful, and it sounds warm. It makes Isak feel warm. He is paying this man seventeen billion kroner just to listen to him breathe in his sleep. And for some reason that makes perfect sense.

Isak is mad. That’s all there is to it. He’s a madman. And he’s wealthy enough to indulge himself in his madness. To drown in it. He knows that right here, right now, lying in his bed next to this man, he is making a decision that will determine his fate. He doesn’t know what that fate will be. All he knows is that it’s going to be defined now.

He opens his eyes and looks at Even. This isn’t love. He knows it. Even doesn’t love him. Whatever happens between them, it’s not real. Whatever he is feeling in his heart, it’s not genuine. It’s just a need, a desperate, unquenchable thirst. Even could be anybody willing to stir these emotions up in Isak.

Isak moves a bit closer to Even. He can feel the warmth radiating from Even’s body. Even shifts, in his sleep, approaching waking up. Isak moves a bit closer still. He pulls up the side of Even’s covers and slips under them. It’s so warm in there. It smells like Even’s skin. It’s intoxicating.

Speaking of. Even must be hungover. Isak can only hope he’s the kind of person who likes hungover sex. The thought makes him almost blush. Here he is, in bed with a beautiful man, thinking about having sex with him. Wanting to. Oh, he wants to.

“Mh? What is it?” Even moves again. He’s almost awake, but not quite. If he falls back asleep, he won’t remember this conversation when he properly wakes up.

“Your --” Isak hesitates before saying it. Just for a fraction of a second. He is committed to this, he knows it now. “Your boyfriend needs some attention.”

Isak pushes his leg between Even’s. Even yawns. He wraps his arm around Isak and pulls him closer. Against his chest. His flat, beautiful chest. Isak presses his palms on it and leans in to kiss the side of Even’s neck.

“I’m sleeping”, Even mumbles. He doesn’t sound too convincing. Isak can feel it in Even’s body, it’s preparing for impact. Contact. Connection. Isak kisses Even’s neck again.

“Too bad.”

Even chuckles. The sound crawls down Isak’s spine, raising his skin to goosebumps of pleasure. He can hear the promise in that chuckle, and he can’t wait for Even to deliver. Isak crawls a bit higher, so he can kiss Even, right on his soft, soft lips. Even kisses him back. He’s still drowsy, and the kiss is soft like sleep.

It feels so good. It makes Isak want things.

“I need you inside me”, Isak whispers into Even’s mouth. “Please. Please?”

Even slips his tongue through Isak’s lips. Isak pushes his tongue against it, to greet it, delighted. He lets Even push him on his back on the bed. He clings to Even, pulling him with him. When Even kisses the side of his neck he moans.

This is the first time he’ll make love with Even. Yes, they have had sex before, but this time will be different. Isak can tell. It’s pulling him in. He has made up his mind. He’s diving in. He’s drowning. Willingly.

Even runs his hands down Isak’s sides. He has such lovely hands. Nice and big. Big enough to contain Isak and all his issues. Even can handle him. That’s how it feels like. He has found someone who can handle him. It feels wonderful. Almost as wonderful as Even’s lips travelling along Isak’s chest and closing around his nipple. It gets hard immediately, like it’s only been waiting for this. Isak can relate.

“Oh fuck --” Isak whimpers, closing his eyes and pushing his head back. He pushes his chest up, towards Even’s mouth. He’s offering himself to Even, eagerly. Even accepts him. He receives him.

It feels so good. He wants this so much, and just like always in his life, he is being given exactly what he wants. Only this time, he can truly appreciate it. And he does, oh, he does. He appreciates every touch, every breath. They make him shiver and moan. They’re both panting by now, and Isak can feel something hard against his thigh.

He can’t wait to get it inside him. He spreads his legs and wraps them around Even.

“Take me. Take me now.” It’s been too long. It’s been forever.

Even hums softly. He reaches over to the night stand to get the lubricant. Isak is squirming in anticipation. The smell of the lube makes his mouth water. It is a disappointment to have to let Even’s body go so he can get his finger between Isak’s legs, but that frustration dissolves the moment Even pushes the finger inside him.

“Oh, ohhh fuck! Yes!” Isak can hear himself get loud. So loud. He presses his nails in Even’s shoulder blades. It makes Even grunt, low and deep, and the sound feels almost like a touch.

Even pushes his finger inside Isak over and over again. It feels so good. In a way that nothing else does. From the inside out. In his whole body. Isak’s body has been made for this, made for complete surrender, that’s how it feels right now.

“More.” Isak’s moans have turned into whispers, hungry and soft at the same time. He needs more. “Please. Hurry. I must have you.”

Even obliges. He gives Isak two fingers, those lovely, lovely long fingers, that he bends inside Isak in a way that makes him see stars. He bends them and pulls them apart and pushes them in deeper. Then he gives Isak the third one.

“Fuck!” Isak inhales sharply. His eyes snap open. His thighs are shaking. He spreads them further, to give room for Even, who chuckles again.

“Soon enough, love. You’re almost ready.”

“I’m ready now”, Isak whines. He feels more than ready. He feels desperate. Mighty Isak Valtersen has been reduced into a writhing mass in dire need of some dick. Fucking pathetic. In the best of ways.

Even pulls his fingers away. Isak feels so empty. It’s hard to wait, so hard, and when he finally feels Even’s tip push against him he pushes as well. He forces Even’s dick inside him, forces his body to take it, and it makes him half moan, half scream. It’s so big. It’s so hard. He loves it.

“Take me! Please!”

Isak keeps moving his hips with Even’s. They share a rhythm that’s making them both pant and moan. Isak’s hair is clinging to his forehead. His hands are grasping for Even, his shoulders, his upper arms, his face. His beautiful face. Isak looks Even into his eyes, lost in the endless blue. He’s almost disappointed when Even leans down to kiss him and he can’t look at Even’s face anymore. But he can feel Even’s dick. It’s inside him, over and over again, it fills him up and completes him, makes him whole. This is an addictive game. To become a piece that needs a match.

Even’s getting close. Isak can feel it in his movements, how the kiss stumbles a bit, how Even’s breath is more focused. He has a goal and he’s aiming for it, and Isak only wants to push him past the finish line with all his might.

“Come inside me”, Isak moans. He loves speaking on Even’s lips, into his mouth, it feels so hot. He’s in heat. Even makes him lose it, to forget all civilised manners, and become only flesh and need.

Isak whispers  _ yes _ all over again as he feels Even squirt inside him. Even slipping out of him feels hot, too, and knowing Even’s semen will soon be dripping on his cheeks and thighs makes Isak throb. Even grabs him, his throbbing dick, and after a few strokes Isak comes all over his hand.

Even gets up. Isak looks at him and grabs his wrist.

“Where are you going?”

“I need a drink”, Even says. Isak doesn’t let go.

“Now? Can’t it wait? Please?”

Even looks at him. He’s considering. Isak tries to decipher this particular shade of blue in his eyes, but he can’t. Even makes up his mind with a little nod, and crawls back to bed. Isak curls up against him.

“I love you”, Isak says. Even kisses his hair.

“I love you too.”


	44. Even

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It feels kind of frivolous to write about my messy boys in times like this. But I hope this helps at least someone, somewhat. Reading is one of my own coping methods when I'm stressed.

Even flicks his finger over the screen, frowning. He is a wealthy man now. Anything he wants to do, he probably could. It’s just hard to decide, what he should do  _ first. _ It would have to be something greatly symbolic. It would define his whole reign. Even has been given incredible power, and he wants to use it to leave a mark.

Even has spent his entire life as a nobody.

Now he finally is somebody.

All he has to do is make a choice. He keeps flicking the screen, mindlessly, barely reading any of the text. His head is buzzing, and he’s not even properly drunk. Just a bit. Just enough to keep the hangover of the century at bay for now. He has limited time, he needs to be functional.

In times like this Even wishes he had something he thinks is important. A priority. He has no priorities in his life, no long term plans, no real dreams to speak of. Now that the sky is the limit he feels the pressure of his previous restrictions. He has always had pretty much nothing. He has learned to reach for nothing, because that’s what he can achieve. Nothing past the next party, the next drink, the next fuck, and he already has all of those on his demand.

Speaking of.

Isak is watching him. He’s pretending not to. The fact that Even’s naked might have something to do with that. Even turns in the chair and swings his legs over the arm rest. He lets his boyfriend look at them properly. Even likes his legs, they’re so long. It’s a look. It works for him. And he’s working for Isak. For stellar pay, which he still should decide to spend somehow.

“So, I really have all your assets in my use?”

Isak nods.

“Yes. All of them. Unless you wish to use them for evil.”

Even rests the ipad on his thighs. It feels a bit cool. Isak Valtersen doesn’t need to protect his iPad with a case, if he drops it he can pull a fresh one from the pack. He closes his eyes for a bit, to think. He can’t come up with anything.

“Is a golden hot tub filled with champagne evil?”

Isak laughs a little.

“Well. It does sound like something a Bond villain would have. And gold mining is generally using rather inhumane methods. Apart from that, it’s probably not evil -- but is that something you want?”

Even almost rolls his eyes. Isak is so fucking holy, isn’t he. Inhumane methods. Good for him to say, from his ivory tower. Then Even remembers they’re supposed be dating. He should behave. So he smiles, kind of. Half way.

“Well. That does seem like a waste of champagne. Plus, your bathroom is already rather well equipped.”

Isak nods. He is smiling. He’s happy with Even’s choice, and for some ridiculous, still unnamed reason it makes Even pleased with himself. He’s like a dog trying to please his master. Like all his life. How much money should he have to make that stop?

“What if I wanted to give it all to charity?”

Isak nods again.

“I will authorise the transfer. Do you have an organisation in mind?”

“Why haven’t you done that already?” Even asks. A bit more hostile than he is supposed to. But it is wrong for one man to have this much money. It’s not fair.

“Done what?” Isak walks to Even, takes a cushion and sits down on the floor in front of Even’s chair. He rests his head on Even’s thigh, looking up at him. Even lets his fingers play with Isak’s hair.

“Given your money to those who actually need it.”

Even expected Isak to look guilty. Or a bit angry. Defensive maybe. But he is perfectly calm. Maybe a bit embarrassed, but not in the flavour Even anticipated.

“My yearly donations add up to about twenty million. Then there are all the larger one shots, like the children’s intensive care unit. Plus, of course, the research I’m funding. You could also consider my investments in renewable energy sources sort of charity, since it’s going to benefit us all in the long run.”

Even frowns. Is Isak boasting? He isn’t sure.

“But. You have seventeen billion kroner.”

“Not in cash, of course. Most of my fortune is tied to companies, facilities, scholarships and other programs. Everything adds up to, approximately, seventeen billion.”

Even is suddenly almost angry. No, not almost. He is angry. Isak has lied to him. Mislead him. He has let Even think he’s just a rich bitch who sits on a huge treasure chest. After recent events Even has almost started to think he is someone meaningful, maybe important, at least important enough to share something this fundamental with.

“But. You’re a playboy who buys entire movie theaters so you can watch a movie without having to mingle with common people. I haven’t heard of a single fund in your name.”

Isak simply shrugs.

“Buying a movie theater gets more clicks.”

“Liar.”

Isak reaches over Even’s laps. Even is just about to tell him he’s not looking for a hand job right now, when Isak grabs the iPad instead. He taps on it for a bit, then hands it back over to Even.

“I’d like to direct your attention to the weekly reports in my inbox.”

Even takes the pad and opens a random email. He reads it through quickly. Just the titles, and the impressively large numbers sprinkled here and there. Isak isn’t lying. He is doing good with his money. A lot of good. More than Even could, even with seventeen billion kroner.

“Wait. Am I reading this correctly? Are you getting profit from charity?”

“Of course not from charity. But sustainability is one of the mega trends now. It has taken a while, but I am finally gaining significant profit for my investments. That means more money for research.”

Isak’s face feels warm against Even’s thigh. He’s blushing. Even pushes his hand in Isak’s hair and squeezes it in his fist. Isak’s lips crack slightly.

“Are you having fun humiliating me?”

Isak’s face changes. The anticipation is gone, making way for confusion. Even tugs at his hair one more time before he lets it go. He doesn’t want to actually hurt Isak, and he is fucking about to.

“What?”

“Our deal is off. Keep your fucking  _ assets. _ I wouldn’t want to disrupt all that precious research.” Even shoves the iPad to Isak and struggles his way up on his feet. He walks to the bar and grabs the best bottle of scotch he can locate on this schedule. He walks to the elevator.

“Even?”

“I’m refusing service and refunding your money.”

The elevator doors open. Even steps inside with his eyes closed. He doesn’t want to see himself in the mirror. He hears Isak yell something, but he’s not listening anymore. This has been a mistake. The words spoken yesterday keep spinning in his head.

_ I love you. _

Even cracks the bottle open and drinks from it, barely tasting the alcohol. He wipes his mouth to the side of his palm, and when the doors open again he rushes outside. He flips his middle finger up at the doorman on his way out. The asshole tries to get his attention, but he has approximately zero fucks left to give. He’s going home now. If he still has one.


	45. Isak

Isak yanks the balcony door open and rushes outside. He leans over the edge and looks down in the dizzying depths to the street. The elevator is still going down. He has ordered it to come back up, but by the time he will get down Even will be long gone. He has to try and reach Even from up here.

Isak waits. His heart is racing, his blood is rushing, he can barely breathe. He can see the door swing open and something pale dash through.

“Even! Come back!” Isak shouts as loud as he can, but the wind catches his voice and tears it apart. It doesn’t reach Even. Isak can’t reach Even, not now, maybe not ever, and understanding that while standing alone in the middle of the vastness of the sky arching above the city forces all the air out of Isak’s lungs. He collapses on his hands and knees, because that’s the only way he can be sure he doesn’t swing his body over the railing.

It’s cold. The winds are always ruthless up here, but now they’re brutal enough for Isak to know the streets are getting their share. Even needs help. Isak reaches up to grab the railing and pulls himself up to peek over it. He can’t see Even anymore. That’s not good. He has to save Even.

Isak drags himself up and hurries inside. Where the fuck is his phone? It takes him precious seconds to locate it, and his hands are shaking so much that he can barely dial the number.

“Yes. Hello.” Isak is surprised at how level his voice sounds. “There is uh. There’s a young man running around naked in the vicinity of the Valtersen Tower. No, I don’t know who he is. Drunk? Probably. I saw him from my balcony, so I can’t be sure, but. It’s February. He’s naked.”

After the call Isak stares into the void for a bit. The elevator has arrived, but he doesn’t enter it yet. Even is long gone. He’s out of Isak’s hands, and out of his life. Isak didn’t even get the chance to buy him a new phone. Isak has no way to reach him. If Even doesn’t, for some crazy reason, decide to come back here, there’s nothing Isak can do.

The loss feels like. Like. Isak has no idea. It feels so much that he can’t make it out. It’s like staring at a huge painting with his nose touching it. He can’t tell what the picture is about. All he can see are strokes of gray and purple, half mixed together.

He called the police on Even. He knows he had no choice, but he also knows that Even will never forgive or forget that. But perhaps Even won’t know it was him? Maybe? That is a slim chance, but it’s still a chance, and Isak clings to it with all his might. There is still hope. Isn’t there?

Isn’t there?

Isak is still holding the phone. He looks at the screen and opens the contacts. Is there anyone he’d like to call? Anyone at all? He has friends, right?

He remembers how his friends acted around Even. All his peers, and even Jonas. And he couldn’t call Jonas, no way. Jonas wouldn’t pick up, and to be honest, Isak didn’t want him to, either. Not now.

Isak looks around. His apartment is exactly like it has always been. It’s like Even has never been here, apart from the missing bottle of scotch that would be replaced without Isak ever noticing. Like everything in his life happens. He doesn’t even notice, until it’s over.

He has to get out of here. He calls himself a cab.

The doorman gives Isak a long look as Isak walks through the lobby. Isak ignores him. Now that Isak thinks of it, that guy kind of is an asshole. The HR should have a chat with him soon. Isak makes a mental note he might or might not forget. Right now he is busy. He has a car waiting for him outside.

Isak gets into the cab and closes the door. Magnus turns to look at him over his shoulder.

“Has something happened, sir? You look upset.”

Isak can’t help it. He starts laughing. Magnus manages to look so much like he actually cares, and he’s the only one Isak  _ knows _ is comfortable with him and Even (Isak himself, for one, isn’t actually comfortable, now is he?) and all this is simply overwhelming.

“Yes”, Isak finally manages to say, shaking his head. “You could say that something has indeed happened.”

“Okay.” Magnus nods. He looks conflicted. He wants to ask, but he doesn’t want to pry. Isak isn’t sure if he wishes Magnus would ask, or not. Maybe not. “Where should we drive, sir?”

Of course.  _ Sir. _ They are not friends. There is like a thousand steps of classes between them. Isak is the top of the food chain, while Magnus is. Well. He’s so close to the bottom that he can taste the mud.

“Sir?”

“Oh. Right. Uhm.” Isak hasn’t thought about this. He hasn’t been able to think about much at all. “I don’t know. I want to find him, but I don’t know where he went. He’s naked.”

Magnus unbuckles his seat belt so he can turn around to look at Isak properly.

“Excuse me? Naked? Who’s naked?”

Isak swallows. Speaking his name feels difficult. It feels heavy and sharp on his tongue.

“Even.”

“Even? The person you. Uh. Were with, last night?” Magnus blushes. Isak blushes as well. He has never been so inappropriate in his life than he was last night. Was it really last night? It feels like a lifetime ago. Everything with Even feels. It’s like compressed life. Boiled down. Purified.

“Yes.”

Magnus looks confused.

“And you’re telling me he left.”

“Yes.”

“And. He is naked?”

Isak nods. His heart feels like it’s being gripped by a cold hand. He has never in his life been this worried about someone. A certain someone. He has mourned for global injustice, but now there is a name that he can barely speak.

“But. It’s February.”

Isak nods again. He is aware of what month it is.

“Is he still out there? In this weather?” Magnus sounds genuinely worried, too. Isak has no reason to doubt it, either. Bless this man.

“I don’t know. I called the police but I don’t. I don’t know.” Isak rubs his eyes with his fists. He can’t collapse now. Right?

“How drunk is he?”

“Not too bad. Less than he has been in days, I guess. But he’s not well.”

Magnus looks like he’s about to tell Isak to stop speaking. So, Isak hurries to say it.

“He’s bipolar.”

Magnus pinches his lips together. He takes a deep breath in through his nose.

“That’s not -- I’m not -- that’s private.”

“I know”, Isak sighs. “I’m sorry. I had to tell someone.”

“Wait. Wait. You told the police, didn’t you?”

Isak shakes his head. He didn’t tell them. He couldn’t.

“I couldn’t let them know I know him.”

“Oh for -- hang on.” Magnus turns around and takes his phone. Isak tries to ask, but Magnus raises his hand and shushes him. “This is Magnus Fossbakken speaking. I’m calling to ask about someone who might have been brought there.”

Isak listens to Magnus speak on the phone, in awe of his calmness. All through the call Magnus remains polite and calm, to the extent of it being kind of soothing for Isak as well. Everything is okay, because Magnus has got this. He’s telling the police that Even is mentally ill, and that he needs psychiatric care instead of a cell, and he’s making the person on the phone promise him that this will be made happen. When the call is over Magnus grabs the wheel with both hands.

“Thank you”, Isak says quietly. “That was an impressive phone call.”

“I’ve had practice”, Magnus says. He sounds exhausted. Isak wants to ask. But he doesn’t. Magnus was right, it’s private.

“Did they have him in custody?”

“They wouldn’t say. I didn’t push it since it’s none of my business anyway.”

Isak nods. At least the cops know the situation now. It’s February, Even can’t be outside anymore. Surely someone has collected him. Right? Isak shifts on his seat, restless. He still doesn’t know where he wants to go, but Magnus starts the engine anyway.

“Where are we going?” Isak asks.

“I’ll drive. You keep an eye out for him.”

Isak’s chest feels tight again.

“Thank you.”

“I will charge you my full rate.”

“So you’re telling me you won’t accept more?”

Magnus pulls out into the street.

“Exactly, sir.”


	46. Even

Even huddles up tighter inside the blanket. He is sitting in an interrogation room, observed by the cold eye of a security camera. Even blows it a kiss every now and then, pulling the blanket away from his shoulder to flash some skin too. These people work hard, they deserve a treat. Besides, Even needs something to entertain himself with. They took his scotch away from him.

Even slides down in his chair with a deep sigh. This is so boring! He’s locked in here with only his thoughts to keep him company and he does. Not. Want. That. Not one bit. If he stops to think he won’t be able to stop. It will all come crashing over him, burying him in the debris.

The alternative isn’t much better. He could remember only one phone number by heart. He had dreaded calling it, but he was out of options. He needed to get home. He needed to call Mikael, and that’s what he did, and now he is waiting for Mik and Eskild to come and bring him some clothes.

If they only would settle for that. Even can imagine what they will say, but he doesn’t want to. He tries to focus on something else. Anything else. But this room is so bare. There isn’t anything to entertain him, and his brain is running on fumes by now. Even closes his eyes and tries to see something, anything at all. He sees the rooftops of the city. He sees the wind in Isak Valtersen’s hair. He sees Isak Valtersen lean over into the abyss, and he sees him fall.

“Even!”

Mikael dashes across the room and jumps into a hug. He smells really good. A bit spicy, a bit woody, with some leathery notes. The scent is stuck on his scarf. Mikael has been snuggling up with someone who likes expensive colognes and pretty boys. Even can still feel the warmth on Mikael’s skin.

An Ikea bag lands at Even’s feet.

“Go to the bathroom and get dressed, sweetie.” It’s Eskild. Even doesn’t open his eyes just yet. He leans into Mikael and wishes with his whole being that Mikael would hold on for a little bit more. He’s squeezing his eyes shut, fighting back his tears. He’s so fucking ashamed. Naked at the police station, with no money, no keys, no phone, nothing. He has been collected by Mikael before, but never reduced to this state.

“Come on, Ev. Come with me.” Mikael’s voice is soft and gentle. He must be fuming on the inside. Filled with rage towards Even and his reckless antics. He’s simply hiding it so well that it’s way, way too easy for Even to believe in the tender kindness of the hands that travel along his arms until they find his hands and take them. Even turns his head to the side.

“I’m sorry”, he whispers. “For everything.”

“It’s okay”, Mikael hums. His lips brush Even’s cheek lightly. “Come on. Let’s get you dressed up and home. Some rest in your own bed sounds nice, right? I’ll lie with you if you want me to.”

Even nods. He lets go of Mikael’s hands and wraps the blanket tighter around himself. Mikael takes the bag and walks him to the bathroom. Eskild follows them like a bodyguard. Mikael lets Even lean on him a bit. They must look ridiculous, but Even doesn’t care. He’s too tired to care.

They decide to walk home. Now that Even has his clothes it’s not too cold, and Even can’t remember the time he last got some actual exercise and fresh air. His brain is exhausted but his body doesn’t feel tired, and a bit of walking might actually help with that. Eskild walks ahead, with his long legs and dancer’s posture, while Even drags his feet by Mikael’s side. It’s comforting to be able to just keep his eyes fixed on Eskild, to follow him, without having to think about anything himself.

Mikael tries to ask Even some questions on the way. About what happened. Where his clothes are. Was he kicked out like this. Even doesn’t say anything. He keeps staring at the back of Eskild’s head and moving his feet, step by step. He doesn’t want to speak. He doesn’t want to answer questions or explain anything. Mikael catches on soon enough, and they walk in silence.

It’s so weird to think he saw Mikael last night. It feels like a lifetime ago. He saw Mikael, and danced with him, and said goodbye to him and here he is now. The prodigal son has returned. He doesn’t like it, and if he could choose, he would turn around and leave to find a party. There’s always a party somewhere, and Even might be able to slither his way into one. But he can’t choose. He doesn’t have the strength anymore.

When they get home Eskild goes to put some coffee on. Mikael comes with Even to his room. Everything is like Even left it. Pathetic. The contrast to Isak Valtersen’s penthouse is glaring. It doesn’t matter. He has left the penthouse, and returned to his own sad little life, and he knows even that is more than he can actually handle. Even doesn’t bother to undress, he simply collapses on his bed and crawls under the blanket.

“Can I come with you?” Mikael asks. Even moves his shoulder. It doesn’t matter. Nothing really matters. Especially Even himself. He knows he’s just wallowing now, bathing in self pity and misery, but it feels too bittersweet for him to resist.

Mikael lies down right next to him. Their bodies are almost touching. Their faces are close together, and Mikael looks like he really wants to say something. He reaches his hand up and moves the tuft of Even’s hair sticking out of his hood away from his eyes.

“I’m sorry about last night”, Mikael says quietly. Even makes a sound. He isn’t sure what the message is. Perhaps it’s just to express he is still awake, or alive, kind of.

“Are you still mad at me?”

Even closes his eyes. He doesn’t know if he ever was mad. He probably was, he remembers what he said to Mikael at the club, and those words were filled with black bile. But now that he thinks about it, it feels like it didn’t really happen. Like it was a dream, or a movie, maybe a book but he doesn’t read, does he?

“Ev?”

Mikael is so needy. Even doesn’t have anything left to give him, or anyone, but he knows Mik won’t give up until he gets what he needs.

“Yes.” The word staggers its way off Even’s lips like a drunkard out of a bar after closing time. He isn’t sure if it’s true. But it is more true than a  _ no _ would be.

Mikael’s leg touches Even’s knees. He’s playing with the string of Even’s hood.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t know what else to do. You needed to come home, and when you’re like that you don’t listen. You just don’t listen.” Mikael’s voice fades away. Even doesn’t open his eyes. He doesn’t want to see Mikael’s face right now. He’d like Mikael to fuck off right about now, but he can’t speak. He’s too tired to feel, and too tired to speak.

Even can feel Mikael’s breath on his lips before he feels the touch. The kiss Mikael gives him is so slow it barely moves at all, it just kind of lingers there, on their mouths, joining them. There isn’t a hint of lust in the kiss, only tenderness, and when it’s over Mikael snuggles up against Even and rests his head on Even’s collarbone. Even opens his eyes and stares into nothing, over Mikael’s silky black hair.


	47. Isak

It has been days. Isak is being ridiculous. He has been close to Even for days, and apart from him for days, nothing more. That’s not enough time to create a relationship of any kind, let alone something meaningful or important. Something worth mourning. What Isak had with Jonas, that was something. With Even, he had nothing.

A whole lot of nothing.

Now that it’s gone, it feels like even less. A couple of baths. Sex. Isak hurries to push that thought away. There was sex, it was better than great, now the sex is no more and he can go have some with other people. He could find another rentboy to satisfy him. The world is full of hookers with hearts of gold.

Even is one of a kind, though. In so many ways. Isak walks around in his apartment, looking for clues of Even having been here. There is his towel on the bathroom floor. Half empty bottles in the bar. The glass with Even’s lip prints. Isak has cancelled all housekeeping for the time being. He wants to keep Even’s presence in here as long as possible, because he really is that pathetic.

Isak takes the glass in his hand and holds it up against the light. He can see the shape of Even’s bottom lip. That beautiful, plump curve. Isak puts the glass on the bar. He takes a bottle of water from the fridge, cracks it open and fills the glass. He doesn’t want to overpower Even’s flavour with alcohol, but one bottle catches his eye. He walks over to the grenadine and adds a couple of drops into the water. They don’t dissolve properly. Isak watches them sink in slow swirls to the bottom. They kind of remind him of someone.

The grenadine water with a drop of scotch in the bottom tastes disgusting. It doesn’t matter. Isak drinks the whole glass empty, his lips pressed tightly around the mark on the glass. When he’s done drinking he simply holds the glass on his mouth, his eyes closed, knowing perfectly well how fucking desperate this is.

Finally Isak puts the glass down. He looks through the window and feels an urge to go to the balcony and throw the glass as far as he can. But it would be dangerous. Someone might get hit by it, or by the shards, or step on them. Isak leaves the glass on the edge of the bar, dangerously close, just waiting to be swept to the floor by a careless hand passing by. Just like his heart.

Isak’s phone beeps. He rushes to find it. It’s Magnus, he knows it is, but he is still excited. Magnus sends him something a couple of times a day. They are audio messages, little stories about his clients, or what his wife had put in his sandwiches today. Isak replies with only  _ Thank you _ every time. He doesn’t have stories or anecdotes to share, and all his sandwiches taste like ash anyway.

_ Tell your doorman I’m coming over. _

The phone’s screen cracks as it hits the floor. The message isn’t from Magnus, it’s from Jonas. He’s coming over. Now? Why? Isak looks around at the mess, the traces of Even scattered everywhere. He should get to work immediately. No time to call the cleaning crew. He doesn’t want them to be here when Jonas arrives.

Well. Isak doesn’t want to be here himself when Jonas arrives, either.

Isak hurries to the bedroom. He pulls the duvet over the unmade bed. He takes out a suit and dresses up. He needs his armour. He has no idea what Jonas wants, but he also has no idea how to tell him no. All he can do is hope Jonas won’t ask for much.

When the elevator doors slide open Isak is sitting in his armchair, pretending to read a book. He hasn’t read a word in days, and he kind of misses it, but he can’t stay focused on anything for long enough to actually understand what he’s reading. He has no idea which book he is holding now, when he looks up from it and at Jonas.

Jonas doesn’t look angry. It’s been forever since Isak has seen Jonas not look angry.

“Hi, Issy.”

Isak swallows the lump in his throat.

“Hi.”

Jonas comes inside. He’s looking better than the last time Isak saw him, but he’s also looking like shit. He’s so obviously drunk. That makes Isak feel a bit on the edge. Almost frightened. He doesn’t know what Jonas wants, why he is here, he can’t take his eyes off of Jonas’ lips that curve into a hint of a smile.

Isak stands up.

“Want something to drink?”

Jonas shakes his head. Shame. Isak would have liked a drink, but now he can’t have one. Maybe it is for the best. One of them should be sober.

“What do you want, then? More money?”

Jonas steps closer. Isak’s heart is fluttering, like always, but he notices something different. He notices a part of him kind of wishes Jonas was someone else. That thought terrifies him.

“I saw you”, Jonas says. Isak expected his speech to be slurred, but it’s not. His voice is cold and level. Jonas takes his phone out. “I have pictures.”

Isak stares at the phone in Jonas’ hand. There is a picture of a cab, parked in the alley next to his tower, and there are two people in the back seat, kissing, and if you zoomed in you probably could tell it was him. Kissing Even.

“What happened? Did he have a sale or something?”

Isak shakes his head. At least his brain is telling his head to move, but he isn’t quite sure if that’s actually happening or not. Jonas flips through the pictures, he has several of them. It’s been days. Why is Jonas here now, and not right away?

“What do you want?” Isak asks again. He wants to step back as Jonas approaches him, but he can’t move.

Jonas doesn’t stop until he’s right in front of Isak. So close. Too close. He smells like alcohol and cigarettes and sleepless nights. He raises his had on Isak’s cheek. His fingers are cold. He’s not wearing gloves.

“You were supposed to be forever mine, Issy.”

Isak doesn’t know what to say. He’s swept back to six years ago, when he would have done anything to stand this close to Jonas, to feel Jonas’ hand on his cheek. When he did something, that went horribly wrong.

“What?” Isak can’t hear his own voice. Jonas strokes his cheek gently.

“You told me so in your oh so heartfelt letter. You signed it. Forever yours.” Jonas leans in. Isak can feel his breath on his lips. His own breath catches in his throat. “You lied to me.”

Jonas steps back, shoving Isak’s face away. Isak staggers backwards. His face is on fire.

“You don’t want me”, Isak tries. Jonas scoffs.

“What the fuck does that have to do with anything?”

Isak doesn’t have an answer. Because Jonas is right. He has pledged himself to Jonas, forever, and he can’t undo that one-sidedly. Or, of course he can, he’s a person and not an object, but still. Jonas has a point. Isak has taken something valuable and important from Jonas, out of selfishness, and given himself in return, and it’s not fair of him to take even that away.

“He doesn’t want me either”, Isak says. He’s surprised his voice doesn’t crack. “He’s gone. He won’t be back.”

Jonas laughs. He doesn’t sound one bit happy.

“Seriously? I should have known. You’re so fucking pathetic even a prostitute can’t stand your company. Maybe you should have paid him more.”

“I didn’t have more.” It’s a confession. Isak needs to tell someone, and who else would he tell? Jonas should know the full depths of his misery, so he can know how low he should be kicking.

“Sorry, what?”

“I gave him my whole property. Turns out it wasn’t enough.” Isak turns away from Jonas. He’s too ashamed to look at him. “You’re right. I can’t pay enough for anyone to love me.”

“No, really, what? You gave all your money away?”

Isak shrugs.

“It’s just money.”

“Only assholes who have too much money ever say that! Fuck! Are you insane?”

“Do you want money? Just tell me how much you want.”

“You don’t have any money left!”

Isak closes his eyes. Shame is burning on his skin. Little ripples of invisible fire.

“He gave it back. I repulse him so much he gave up seventeen billion kroner to get away from me.”

Jonas is quiet. So, so quiet, and for so long, that Isak gives in and looks at him. He can feel Jonas’ eyes cut like a cold blade.

“You know what, Issy?” Jonas finally speaks. He’s swaying a bit, barely noticeably. “I can relate to that.”

Isak covers his mouth with his hand. He is breathing hard through his nose. The room feels like it’s spinning.

The intercom buzzes, making them both jump.


	48. Even

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: sex related self worth issues

Even wakes up alone. Mikael has gone. The print his body has left in Even’s sheets feels cool as Even puts his palm on it. He gives the bed a slow little stroke. If things only were different. If he was different. He and Mikael could have made each other happy, if they only ever figured out how. Something just always came up, and now it is too late.

Is it?

Even doesn’t know. He honestly doesn’t know if he and Mikael could ever be anything. There is too much weight on their shoulders to carry, even together. Too many disappointments, trusts broken too many times. Hearts broken too many times. Even closes his eyes and presses his face on the sheet where Mikael lied. His scent has disappeared.

The pillow under his head is lumpy and hard. Even pushes his hand inside it and pulls his notebook out. He flips through it, absentmindedly. He hasn’t been creating anything in forever. He should start again. Soon. He has art inside him, he just needs to get it out somehow. If they only made lighter pencils.

Even rolls over on his back. He covers his face with his hands. It’s easier in the dark, when he can’t see how shitty his room is. How shitty his life is. He had seventeen billion kroner, and he threw it all away because he couldn’t handle being himself. Even laughs a little, bitterly, and kind of oozes down to the floor next to his bed. He takes his box out.

Someone knocks on his door.

“Ev?” It’s Mikael. Even shoves the box back under the bed and sits up before telling Mik it’s okay to come in. Mikael opens the door and peeks inside. He seems surprised to see Even on the floor. “Are you okay?”

Even doesn’t even try to smile.

“I will be. It’s good to be home.”

Mikael smiles. He looks amazing. He’s wearing clothes Even bought him, and for a moment it’s easy to imagine everything went differently. Like Mikael would walk to him and get down on his hands and knees, and kiss him, and it would be normal, they would be normal, and happy.

“I’m glad you’re home. You’re safe.” Mikael hesitates. But he asks anyway. “Are you taking your meds now?”

Even watches his and Mikael’s potential happiness dissolve and disappear. He knows Mikael is not his enemy. He knows it, but that doesn’t help. He can hear his protective shields snap in place.

“None of your business.”

Mikael just nods. He’s not in the mood for a fight. Neither is Even, to be honest. Fighting with Mikael is so painful, they both know where to hit so it really hurts.

“How about a welcome home party?”

Even is immediately interested.

“Tonight?”

Mikael nods, smiling. He pushes his hip to the side, leaning it on the door.

“I’ll get the people, you get the booze?”

Even can see the corner of the box from where he’s sitting. He nods.

“Sounds great. Tonight at eight?”

Mikael takes his brand new iPhone from his pocket and starts texting. As soon as he closes the door Even pulls the box out. He unfolds the instruction leaflets, and gathers the money hidden inside them in a pile. He was going to take them to the bank, but they weren’t open anymore, and then he forgot all about it. That’s good. That means he can afford the party. Mikael doesn’t have to know he got nothing for his troubles.

Even shoves the money in his pocket and leaves without saying goodbye to Mikael or Eskild. He doesn’t even know if Eskild is home or not. He doesn’t want to see him now anyway. Eskild is a party pooper, and Even doesn’t need that. Mikael is right. They need to get back to normal. They need to start having fun again.

Five hours later Even is dancing on the coffee table. The apartment is full of people, half of which Even doesn’t know and the other half he’s seen only at parties like this. It feels good to have some life around him for a change. The solitary silence in Isak Valtersen’s apartment was so empty and dead. Even raises his hands over his head and knocks at the lamp accidentally, making it swing. The light makes the room rock back and forth. Even should sit down, but there isn’t space for him to get down from the table.

He can see Mikael from up here. Someone has pressed his back against the wall and shoved his tongue in his mouth. Mikael is welcoming him. Even forgets to keep dancing while he’s staring at Mikael making out with some hot guy. Watching that makes him hornier than he would like to admit, but at the same time it’s like all his strength is drained from his body. He can’t feel his arms or legs.

Someone appears in front of him, blocking his view. A guy has climbed on the table with him. Even can feel the poor piece of furniture creak under his feet, but gets distracted by the guy’s smile. He has a nice smile. And a wicked glint in his eyes. He looks like someone who would treat Even like he should be treated, and when Even is this drunk and this miserable he is absolutely powerless against something like that. He leans in and kisses the man he has never seen in his life, and hopefully never will again.

When the guy touches Even’s lower back, he gives Even borders. Those hands roaming on Even’s body, they show Even where he ends. They draw out his shape, and they deem it worthy of their attention. Someone thinks Even is fuckable. Someone wants to fuck him. That means he’s really there. That he is good for something. Even  _ knows _ in his head he is more than that, but he doesn’t believe it. It doesn’t feel true. Or real. This does.

“I brought a friend”, the guy says, right against Even’s ear, so he can hear it over the music. “He’s out of town and doesn’t know anyone here. Can he come with us?”

Even throws his head back and laughs. That lets him close his eyes for a moment. When he pulls his head up again he gives the guy a sloppy kiss and invites him and his friend into his room. Right now. This is exactly what he needs now.

The bed has enough room for three people if they stay close together. Partly on top of each other. Even is lying on his back, with a guy on his both sides, letting their bodies press him on the mattress. They like him. Even can tell. Their hard dicks are pressing into Even’s thighs. Their hands are absolutely everywhere. They like him. They each take Even’s hand and guide it to their crotch.

An hour later Even wraps a bathrobe around himself and walks into the bathroom. He doesn’t lock the door, because this is a big party and Eskild will kill him if someone urinates into one of the plants again. He just pulls the shower curtain closed and turns the water on. While he is rubbing shampoo into his scalp he can hear someone rush in and throw up in the toilet. The smell of the cheapest possible shampoo mixes with the smell of vomit. The bass is thumping from the living room through the open door. Someone laughs. Something made of glass breaks.

It’s good to be home again.


	49. Isak

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: reference to self harm

Isak looks at Jonas. Jonas looks at him.

“Aren’t you going to see who that is?”

Isak wants to say no. He isn’t ready for anyone who it could possibly be, and even less ready for the impossible options. He can barely drag the air inside his lungs. It’s so heavy with Jonas, and the tension, and Isak can only watch as Jonas walks to the intercom and presses the button.

“Send ‘em up.” Jonas turns to look at Isak. “Might as well make this a party.”

Isak feels like he’s about to get sick. He’s not in the mood for a party, and he can tell Jonas isn’t either. The elevator is still going down. They still have a bit of time.

“You don’t have to be cruel.”

Jonas bites. His eyes flash as they strike at Isak.

“Cruel?”

“Yes.” Isak takes a deep breath. Whoever it is in that elevator, it’s someone who will put an end to this conversation. It means Isak can have it now. “If you want something, ask for it. You don’t have to hurt me to get it.”

“Fuck! Are you really that stupid?” Jonas raises his voice. He steps closer. Isak can see he wants to hit. “I want you to hurt! That’s all I want! You should fucking suffer for what you did to me.”

Isak closes his eyes. Another deep breath. Long, slow, calm.

“I have suffered all my life.”

“What, is the gilded spoon chafing your asshole?”

Isak laughs. He shouldn’t, but he does, he can’t stop himself on time.

“Yes. You could say that.”

The elevator stops moving. Then it starts again, this time coming up. Jonas tries to keep his face unchanged, but Isak knows him. He has been watching for so carefully, and so long. He knows that face, and he knows Jonas hesitates.

“Jonas. You can’t keep living like this. You want me to suffer? I am suffering. You don’t have to suffer yourself.”

“Fuck you, rich bitch! Life is suffering when you don’t have enough money to have someone fart for you.”

Isak laughs again. Fucking Jonas! Why does he have to be so funny? Or maybe Isak is simply snapping.

“I can give you money! How much do you need? How much will make you happy?”

Jonas doesn’t say anything. He turns his back at Isak, looking out the window and over the city that Isak could probably buy if he wanted to. But could he buy Jonas? After all?

“I can be yours. Everything I have can be yours.” Isak steps towards Jonas. “You don’t have to touch me, not once. You don’t have to love me. Just. Forgive me. Please. You can’t keep living like this.”

Isak steps closer. Jonas doesn’t move. He doesn’t say anything. Isak takes another step. And another. Jonas is listening to him approach.

“We were best friends once”, Isak says quietly. “Six years isn’t that long. You must remember a time you didn’t hate me.”

The elevator stops. The doors draw open. Isak doesn’t know who he expected, but he didn’t expect this person. Mik steps out of the elevator, with confidence Isak can only admire and envy.

Jonas raises his brow at the pretty little thing. This time Mik isn’t wearing lip gloss, but his hair is braided, and his open jacket reveals the bare strip of skin around his waistline. The white faux fur trimming of his hood frames his face. Mik is pretty, and he still knows it.

“How can I help you?” Isak manages to ask, in a neutral tone. Jonas keeps watching Mik, openly curious. Mik sucks on his bottom lip for a moment.

“I need you to tell me what happened when he was here.”

Isak nods. He does his best to keep his cool. This is normal. Business as usual. He looks at Jonas.

“Help yourself with the bar. I’ll be right back.” Isak guides Mik with him to the bedroom. The bed hasn’t been made since Even left. Isak didn’t expect Jonas to want to see his bedroom, so he didn’t bother cleaning up in here. It can’t be helped now. Mik doesn’t seem to mind, either. He sits down on the edge of the bed, looking at Isak.

“Well?”

“What happened when he was here is something you should ask him.” Isak doesn’t have the right, or the will, to discuss the details of Even’s actions. Even is none of his business anymore.

Mik isn’t impressed. He huffs, blowing a strand of hair off his face.

“He won’t talk to me. All he does is lie in bed and refuse to speak, or eat, or sleep. He’s never been like this before, and I’m running out of things to try.”

Isak can see it in his head. Even in the bed, just lying there. One could say, he can relate.

“Is he taking his medication?”

“Fuck if I know”; Mik sighs. “Probably not. Look, you have like all the money in the world, right? Can’t you help him? Get him some fancy doctor or something? A spot in a clinic for rich people?”

Isak hesitates. He could buy so much. But is there anything he could do to help? Anything?

Mik lets his coat slide off his shoulders. He looks up at Isak, biting his lip again. He is pretty. Remarkably pretty.

“I can make it worth your while, mister Valtersen.”

“Please, there’s no need. Really.”

Mik looks relieved. And not.

“But Even needs help. I can’t help him. We can’t help him anymore, and I’m --” Mik’s voice cracks. He wipes the corner of his eye, though Isak can’t see any tears. “I don’t know what to do. I found this today, from the bathroom trash, while I was checking if I had accidentally thrown out a sheet of -- painkillers, with one left.”

Mik takes something from his pocket. It’s a small blade, wrapped in tape. It has been stained with blood.

“I’m scared for him. I guess that’s it, really. I’m fucking terrified that this time he won’t make it.”

Mik places the blade on the night stand. Isak can’t take his eyes off. It’s blood. Even’s blood. It looks like dried up grenadine.

“If he doesn’t want help, I don’t know how much I can do”, Isak says. His tongue keeps sticking to the roof of his mouth.

“Look, sugartits, mister Valtersen is busy. Don’t you know he is an important man?”

Isak turns to look at the door. Jonas is standing there, a glass in his hand. It’s half empty. Mik stands up, his jacket still off his shoulders. He looks younger like that. Much younger.

“And who the fuck are you again?”

Jonas takes a sip from his glass.

“His boyfriend. Who’s had enough of you little bitches flocking around my man. Got it?”

Isak stares at Jonas with his mouth open. He should say something. He really should say something, but he can’t remember any words. Mik raises his perfectly plucked brows at Isak.

“I see.” Mik’s voice is filled with contempt. Isak doesn’t know what to tell him. Jonas doesn’t seem to have that problem. He walks to the painting on the wall, lifts it down and opens the safe. The combination is his birthday, still. Isak hasn’t thought about that safe for a long time. Jonas opens it, takes out two stacks of bills and hands them over to Mik.

“For your troubles. Do not think we can’t hunt you down and destroy both you and everyone you care about, if you say a word of this to anyone.”

Mik takes the money and hurries to shove it in his pockets. Then he rushes to the elevator, eager to get out of here before someone changes his mind on giving Mik the cash. Isak can hear the doors open and close, and the elevator start travelling down. Jonas grins at him over his glass.

“You’re welcome.”


	50. Even

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: self harm, blood

The blade catches the light and throws it in Even’s eyes. He doesn’t expect that. It startles him, makes him blink, and that makes the blade slip. It leaves a crimson crooked curve on the inside of his arm.

“Fuck!” Even hisses. It stings. He’s a fucking wimp, but the pain brings tears in his eyes. He touches his cheek. It’s wet. He’s crying. He isn’t feeling anything, but he is crying. Weeping for his miserable ass. Pathetic.

Still, he can’t deny it’s really tempting. The cut was so fast he missed it, but his fingers kind of remember how it felt when his flesh yielded. He is still holding the blade. Blood is dripping slowly down his wrist, making petal-like droplets in the sink. Even looks at the patterns and smudges them with his fingertip, deep in thought.

Someone enters the apartment. Even almost cuts himself again, jumping at the sound, and hurries to hide the blade in the trash. He rinses his hand and the sink, pulls out a piece of toilet paper to cover the wound and listens. It’s Eskild. He’s taking his shoes off and humming  _ Private Dancer _ because he is an idiot who likes to think he’s ironic. When Even hears Eskild start loading up the coffee maker he flees from the bathroom, into his room.

The toilet paper gets soaked red rather quickly. Even jumps on his belly on the bed. The eagerness takes him by surprise. He’s almost excited. He knows this surge of energy will run out soon, and he knows he should use it to take a shower or maybe eat something, but he’s busy now. He’s inspired.

Even pulls out his notebook and opens a random blank page. He slaps the wet toilet paper on it, rubbing the blood all over the page. It creates a super interesting texture, and the metallic smell makes him feel just nauseated enough. Art should be disturbing. Where the fuck is his dip pen? Even peeks under his bed and rummages there for a bit, until he finds his pencil case. It’s there. Yesss.

The nib leaves a couple of faint black streaks as Even rubs it on his pillow case. It could be cleaner, but it’s clean enough. The black ink will give a nice effect, too. Even stretches his arm out, takes the pen in his hand and pushes the nib against his wound. A drop of blood flows into it, but it’s not enough. He needs more. He takes a deep breath, and pushes harder.

Even draws a tree. A broken, dead, partly burnt tree. It’s crimson, with hints of black here and there, it looks like a ghost of a tree against the background of blood he rubbed on the page. Or a tree demon of some kind. Foliage in Hell. Even chuckles darkly at the thought and starts drawing another one.

Whenever his pen runs out of ink Even pushes it into his arm. Art is pain. Art flourishes in suffering. His cheeks are wet with tears again, but he doesn’t care. He presses the nib harder on the paper, trying to spend more of his crimson ink, so he can go in for another dip. And another. And another.

The trees turn into a forest. The sharp sting turns into a throbbing, burning pain. When Even can’t make himself push the nib in his arm one more time he finally really looks at what he’s done. It’s bad. It’s fucking bad. It’s scary bad. Is Eskild still home?

What will Eskild say when he sees what Even has done?

How sad and silently infuriated will he look?

Even slumps back down on the bed. His pillow case seems to be ruined anyway, so he cuts it into a long strip. He wraps it around his wound, just so he doesn’t have to see it anymore. It looks like some idiot has been stabbing it repeatedly with a dip pen.

The forest is a mess, too. The trees are all the same colour, overlapping each other over and over again. Apart from some scratches the nib made on the wet paper it’s just a sheet of crimson. His sacrifice for his art has been for nothing. Figures, really. Even closes the notebook. He can’t really move his injured arm, it hurts too much. He knows that it’s bad, but he simply doesn’t care. He’s kind of happy to feel something, even if it is pain and fear.

Even lies down on his back. He pulls his naked pillow over his face at first, but he shoves it away only seconds later. He needs a bigger world now, something big enough to contain the pain. It’s too much for his body to hold, it spills and overflows, splashing from the bed all over the floor. It’s drowning the room in crimson red.

He can take it for about five minutes. Then it gets too much. He gets too scared.

“Eskild?” Even calls out. He hopes Eskild is still home, and that he isn’t wearing his earbuds. “Eskild?”

No answer. Fuck. Even tries to move his arm. He sees all white at first, then some black spots, then white against white. How weak is he? It’s just a small flesh wound. Some people get shot and carry on, dragging their wounded friend on their shoulders. Even uses himself as an ink bottle and gets completely incapacitated.

This is ridiculous. It’s not that bad. It’s just that he hasn’t eaten or slept properly in days. Even tries to move again, and this time it hurts a bit less. He still wants to scream, and he still doesn’t. He rolls over on his stomach the wrong way, facing the wall instead of the room, and scoots slowly to the edge of the bed. He reaches down and pulls out the box.

Even reads the stickers on the sides of the packages, trying to find out which pills he should take. And how many. He takes some pills on his palm, then some more from another jar. He rolls them around with his thumb, trying to get a tactile memory. Or audiovisual. Anything. He even takes a long sniff at the pills, but they don’t really smell like anything. Even opens his mouth and presses his palm on his lips. The weight of the pills feels kind of familiar, so he swallows them. He almost chokes on the clump that gets stuck on his throat, but after some coughing he manages to push it down.

He probably should have written down what he took and how much. It doesn’t matter. The amount was probably off anyway. He’ll call his doctor tomorrow to find out what his medication was before he quit it. He has to get his shit together, before he realizes that his body is holding about five litres of paint.

Even can’t move, so he stays on his stomach on the bed. He presses his fingertips on the floor. He tries to focus on the surface under them, to direct his mind away from the pain in his other arm. He can do this. It’s only pain. He has been in pain before.

The nib is on the floor. When Even notices it, he reaches for it slowly, picks it up and slips it in his mouth to suck it clean.


	51. Isak

Isak pulls his legs up against his chest and hugs his knees. He doesn’t want to look at Jonas. He can’t not look at him. He’s feeling this deep, desperate longing, which he can’t deny or push back.

He can’t stop thinking about Even, either. Mik’s words are circling around in his head.  _ This time he won’t make it. _ Isak presses his forehead on his knees and tries to take deep breaths. He can feel his ribs move as his lungs expand and collapse. He can’t help but wonder if Even’s ribs are still moving like this.

“Can you believe that little bitch?”

Isak looks up at Jonas. It is refreshing to have Jonas contempt someone else for a change.

“All that whining and wailing about poor Even, and all it took was a wad of cash. To be honest, I had forgotten how much fun it is to throw money at problems to make them go away.”

Isak forces himself to lower his feet on the floor. He doesn’t need to protect his chest from Jonas. Jonas has already stabbed it, repeatedly, there’s nothing left in there for the blade to hit anymore. It’s just an empty cavity, with an echo of a heartbeat.

“How much, Jonas?” Isak asks quietly. Jonas turns to look at him in the middle of pouring himself a drink.

“How much what?”

“How much money do I need to throw at you to make you go away?”

Jonas stops pouring. He puts the bottle down slowly, so slowly it doesn’t make a sound. There’s similar carefulness in his motions as he walks to Isak. Isak probably has a heart after all, since it’s racing now. Jonas places his hands on the arm rests and leans down towards Isak.

“Why would you want me to go away? Don’t you love me?”

Jonas’ voice is so soft. Isak can still hear the hint of disgust. Jonas really hates him, and Isak is starting to lose hope for the day when that hatred would go away.

“I --” Isak doesn’t have a voice anymore. Jonas leans in closer and raises his hand on Isak’s cheek. He’s actually touching Isak. It’s making Isak shake. He closes his eyes. Jonas is too close, Isak can’t look at him.

“Shh. I’m here.” Jonas’ voice is getting closer to Isak. So is his breathing. Isak can feel it on his lips. That doesn’t make sense. None of this is making sense.  _ This time he won’t make it. _

Jonas kisses him. His lips are a bit dry, and they taste like alcohol, and they are warm and moving against Isak’s mouth. There has been one thing in this world Isak can’t buy, and now it’s given to him. No. Not given. Sold. Isak can feel his lips move, returning the kiss. He is kissing Jonas. Why isn’t he happy?

Isak pushes his body closer to Jonas, just to see what would happen. If Jonas would push him away. But Jonas doesn’t. He lets Isak come. He feels so different to Even. Smaller. Sharper. Isak almost cuts himself.

“No”, Isak says, more to himself than to Jonas. He pushes himself past Jonas, out of the chair, wiping his mouth to the side of his palm. This doesn’t make sense.

“Issy?”

Isak shakes his head. No.

“Just tell me how much you want and leave. And if you want more money just text me. I don’t want to see you again.”

It feels so unceremonious. A week ago, no, days ago, or maybe even this morning, Isak would have thought this would collapse his whole world. Saying goodbye to Jonas. But up until this morning, or this moment, it would have been Jonas saying goodbye to him. This is different. This is better.

“Fuck you”, Jonas spits. “You can’t toss me aside like that.”

“If you leave now, I will provide you one million each month, for the rest of your life. With a ten million first deposit.” Jonas is right. Isak can solve problems by throwing money at them. The trick is to figure out how much he should use.

Jonas places his hands on Isak’s waist from behind. Isak is shaking again. He closes his eyes.

“I can fuck you if that’s what you want”, Jonas says. Isak’s mouth cracks open. Then it snaps closed again.

“You are not this person, Jonas. You are kind, and warm, and loving. You kept my letter all these years, never asking for anything, until that little girl needed you. That’s who you are, and if I make that go away to bring out  _ this _ \-- we are not good for each other. We are not making each other better, we’re making each other worse.”

Jonas doesn’t move his hands. But he doesn’t say anything, either. Isak turns around, to face him.

“Please. Don’t let me destroy you for something so simple as money.”

Jonas presses his thumbs into Isak’s stomach, a bit above his hip bones. Isak can see the disgust in his eyes, but it doesn’t sting anymore. He knows now, he knows what it is that Jonas finds disgusting. It’s not Isak. It’s this. Isak places his hands on Jonas’ wrists.

“Walk away, Jonas. Just tell me how much you need so you can walk away. I will give it to you.”

Jonas presses harder. Isak draws a deep breath in through his nose.

“You’re hurting me.”

“Tell me something, Issy”, Jonas says. His voice is low and hissing. “How much money will make someone happy?”

Isak swallows. Oh, Jonas.

“I don’t know”, he whispers. “I don’t have that much.”

Jonas looks into Isak’s eyes for a moment, his thumbs sinking in his stomach. Then pushes Isak away hard enough to make him stumble.

“I want a platinum credit card. I don’t want to look at another price tag ever in my life. And I want a house. A nice house, in a good neighbourhood -- no. Two houses, on the same street but not next to each other.”

Isak nods. Jonas is asking for so little.

“And I have a condition.”

Of course. There’s always a condition. The small print. Isak doesn’t ask. People always say more when they have to do a monologue, they can’t handle the silence.

“A day. No, a week. Two weeks. You live like a normal person for two weeks. Get a shitty job, live in a shitty apartment, see how it is for the rest of us.”

“The rest of you with a platinum credit card?”

For a second they both think Jonas is going to punch Isak in the mouth. Seconds pass. They always do.

“That’s my condition. Leave your empire for two weeks to see what the world is like.”

Isak could tell Jonas he already knows what the world is like. He doesn’t. He keeps his mouth shut, because he really wants Jonas to go away now. For good.

Two weeks of knowing what things actually cost. Two weeks of not being able to afford the nice booze or good drugs or pretty prostitutes. At any other time in Isak’s life that would sound like a walk in the park, but now he has something to lose. All his coping mechanisms. All his means of maybe helping Even out. Mik didn’t get that much, but maybe it’s enough for a doctor visit.

“I need some time to arrange that.”

“You’ll have a day. By this time tomorrow you’ll be stocking shelves and eating cup noodles. You have enough money to make anything happen.”

Isak nods. Okay. Jonas is right, he does have enough money. He has people he can tell his goal to and wait for them to provide him everything he needs. All he will need is an excuse, and that shouldn’t be too hard to come up with. Billionaires get bored easily.

“You will have your credit card today”, Isak says. “I’ll need to make one phone call, and you can go get it from the bank.”

“And the houses?”

“Just pick the ones you like.” Isak walks to his desk and takes a business card from the drawer. He tries not to think about the hidden gun. Jonas isn’t a real threat to him, not anymore. Isak brings the card to him. “Call this number when you do to work out the details.”

Jonas takes the card without reading it.

“You really have someone for anything, don’t you? Anything you need done, you just call a guy.”

“Or a girl. Basically, yes.”

Jonas scoffs.

“That’s going to end tomorrow.”


	52. Even

Even wakes up to a pulsating pain in his arm. He has no idea, what time it is. What day it is. He should know, because he took his medication and he needs to know when to take more. He doesn’t have time to be concerned about that, because another wave of fire rolls over him. Only medication he cares about right now is something for the pain.

And maybe antibiotics. He doesn’t dare unwrap his bandage, he already knows. It’s infected. He needs to see a doctor. But that means he should tell someone what he did. It’s so  _ crazy. _ To use himself as an ink bottle. For what could have been hours. What if he screwed up his arm for good? What if it needs to be amputated?

Even covers his face with his pillow. He wants to scream, but he doesn’t. The pain doesn’t let him. His voice can’t push through it, it’s reduced into gasping. Fuck. This is bad. This is so bad. He is a fucking idiot.

The pain forces Even out of his bed and his room. He is holding a hoodie over his arm to cover the wound and bandages, but he can’t hide the cold sweat on his temples and forehead. His pale skin. His wild, dark eyes. His staggering walk from his room to the kitchen, where he doesn’t see anyone. He goes to count the shoes. Mikael isn’t home, but Eskild might be. Even waddles to his door and knocks on it with his good hand.

“Eskild?”

“Go away”, Eskild grunts. Even knocks again.

“Please. Help.”

The door opens in a nanosecond. Even jumps back, frightened by Eskild’s look. It takes him a moment to understand Eskild is wearing a sheet mask, with a panda face pattern. He is about to ridicule it, when a pulse of pain forces him to close his eyes and hold his breath.

“Ev? What’s the matter?” Eskild touches Evens elbow, making him jump in pain. Fuck.

“I don’t want to go to the doctor”, Even says. It’s first and foremost in his mind right now. No doctors. He can’t handle it. He drops the hoodie on the floor, and Eskild’s eyes turn huge when he sees the makeshift bandages.

“What have you done?” Eskild asks. Even shakes his head. No. He’s not telling.

“Can you help me or not?”

Eskild pulls Even in the bathroom with him. Even sits down on the toilet seat cover while Eskild takes his mask off, rinses his face and scrubs his hands with plenty of soap. Even holds his arm out as Eskild peels the bandages off. They can both see before the final layers are off that this could be bad. Eskild pulls out the last bit of fabric away slowly, trying to not hurt Even.

“Fuck”, they hiss in unison. Eskild leans down to take a closer look. Even turns his eyes away. Maybe if he doesn’t see it, it will go away.

“Yep, that’s infected. Are you sure you won’t see a doctor?”

“Do I really, really have to? Will my arm fall off if I don’t? Will I die?”

Eskild tries a little chuckle. It’s an awkward one.

“It doesn’t look that bad. Yet. You will have to take care of it, and let me keep an eye on it, and if it doesn’t start getting better in a day or two, you must see a doctor. Okay?”

Even nods. It’s easy to agree with Eskild when he’s in his nursing mode. It feels like Even’s being taken care of. It feels nice. If only he wasn’t this scared and in this much pain. Eskild takes another look at his wound. It looks like an angry little star, a round mark with red radiating from it. It’s pulsating.

“I’ll clean it up and get you some proper bandages. Do we have any painkillers, or has Mik snorted it all?”

Even glares at Eskild.

“He’s not snorting paracetamol, asshole.”

Eskild just shrugs.

“He’s escalating. Maybe spiralling. I’m considering an intervention, but for that I’ll need your help.”

Even bites his lip. He knows what Eskild is not saying. That Even is in no condition to help anyone, he’s too much of a mess himself.

“Anyhow, if there’s none in the cabinet then we don’t have any.”

“Could you check yourself? I don’t want to wash my hands again.”

Even reaches up over his head to the wall behind him. He pulls the cabinet door open.

“See any?”

Eskild sighs.

“Nope. I’ll get you sorted out and go get some before my shift.”

“Thank you.” Even really is grateful. Eskild is saving his life here, again. They fall silent while Eskild tends Even’s wound. It barely adds to the pain at all. He’s gentle. He’s careful. He’s all the things Even doesn’t really deserve right now.

“When did you last see me?” Even asks. Eskild raises his eyes from his work, puzzled.

“Sorry?”

“I’m trying to figure out when I last took my medicine.” Even is certain Eskild will scold him. He will preach about responsibility and the importance of taking his pills regularly, and that is exactly what Even is trying to do here, but things are just so hard. But Eskild doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t say anything long enough to make Even look at him. He doesn’t seem angry at all.

“I saw you the day before yesterday, and I’m really glad you’re taking your medicine again.”

“I’m barely taking it”, Even whispers. Why isn’t Eskild mad at him? It’s not right. “I just took a semi random assortment of stuff I’m pretty sure I’m supposed to be eating. Once. It was yesterday, so I’m going to take more today, but I’m not certain what I took yesterday. I don’t remember.”

“Hey. Look at me.”

Even doesn’t want to. But he looks at Eskild. His outlines are looking kind of fuzzy, and as a tear rolls down his cheek Even knows why. He’s fucking crying. Pathetic.

“Do you still have the packages? I can take a look at the markings, maybe we can figure something out. Is that okay?”

It’s not. It’s so not okay. But it is necessary, so Even nods. He’s still crying. Or leaking.

“Good. Now, let me finish dressing your wound. Then you’ll get a lollipop for being such a good patient.”

Even laughs a little. Eskild is an idiot.

“You keep a stash of lollipops around?”

“Of course. It’s in the nursing manual.”

“Since when have you read manuals?”

Eskild grins.

“Lucky for you, I have read the one about taking care of wounds.” Eskild takes a roll of actual bandages from the plastic packaging and wraps it around Even’s arm. There’s no reason for it to, but it’s already feeling a bit better. “There. I will change the dressings when I come back from the club. If you get it dirty or wet, you will need to change it yourself.”

Even nods. He is a pathetic idiot, but he is fairly confident he can manage this much. Maybe. It’s not like he’s going to leave his bed anyway.

“Okay, then the basics. When have you eaten? Have you been drinking water?”

Eskild tears out a piece of toilet paper and hands it over, so Even can blow his nose.

“I don’t know”, Even whispers. He is so fucking humiliated and ashamed and exhausted. “I’m not hungry.”

“Of course you’re not”, Eskild sighs. “While I go get the painkillers I’ll buy you something to nourish you. It will taste like shit, but you will drink it to the last drop and thank me for it after. Do you understand?”

Eskild is using his nurse voice again. Even has to nod. He’s too tired to argue, and Eskild is right.

“Good boy. You have earned your lollipop. Now, go to the kitchen and drink at least two big glasses of water while I find you one.”

Eskild opens the bathroom door. Even stands up. Eskild hasn’t asked him once. He hasn’t asked how Even got this wound. It feels good and bad at the same time.

“Eskild?”

Eskild turns to look at Even.

“Yes?”

“Can I show you a picture?”


	53. Isak

Magnus pulls over in front of the building and pops the trunk open for Isak’s bags. Isak loads all three of them in there. He was able to find a vacant, furnished apartment of one of the employees of his legal department, who is now in the States for a month working with one of the managers. He has arranged himself an entry level job in a book store, and has a two week’s budget in cash with him. It’s not much. He didn’t expect it to be. He isn’t sure what is the point Jonas is trying to prove with this, since he knows perfectly well how hard it is for some people to simply get by from day to day.

People like Magnus. He drives a taxi. That’s not a line of work you retire to Seychelles from. Or under sixty. Isak closes the trunk and gets in the car. He takes the back seat again. It feels safer to not be able to see Magnus’ face all the time.

“Thank you for coming on this short notice”, Isak says as they join the flow of traffic.

“Oh, it’s nothing, really. It’s peaceful this time of day.” Magnus’ face gets split by a huge yawn. “Mh. Sorry, sir. You did wake me up.”

“I did?” Isak curls his fingers into a fist. He shouldn’t have called Magnus. It just was that he couldn’t call anyone else. “Oh. Of course. You’ve been up all night at work, haven’t you? Are you sure you’re fit to drive?”

“Yes, yes. I would have declined if I wasn’t fit to drive. If I lost my license we would have to sell the house.”

“You live with someone?” Isak knows he is being intrusive, and pathetic. He is looking for friendship in the wrong places. Then again, he is looking for it in Magnus,and this far Magnus has seemed like a good friend material.

“With my mom”, Magnus says, in a tone that declines follow up questions. Magnus lives with his mother, and that’s that. Isak doesn’t ask more. He is feeling more like sharing anyway.

“You must be wondering why I’m moving in to that apartment.”

“To be honest? I wasn’t, because I didn’t know you were moving in there. The times are rough for everyone, but I never thought I’d see the day you run out of money, sir. With all due respect.”

“Can you please toss that respect out the window for a couple of weeks?”

Magnus arches his brow.

“I don’t quite follow.”

Isak sighs. Then he tells Magnus. He tries to start with him playing poor for two weeks, but then he needs a reason for that, and when he mentions Jonas he realises he will have to fill in all the details of their past in order for any of this to make sense.

Magnus isn’t impressed.

“If I may say so, that Jonas sounds like an asshole.”

“He isn’t one. I just bring that out in him.”

“And that sounds like something people in abusive relationships say.”

Isak blushes. Magnus is right. He has been a fool for dreaming about him and Jonas ever becoming something. It would have gone so badly. For both of them.

“Maybe. But that relationship is over now. This is the price I’m paying for it to be over.”

The story has been longer than Isak thought. Magnus pulls over in front of the building where Isak lives now. It doesn’t look too bad, at least from the outside. Isak takes out his wallet, prepared for a fight. He hands over a stack of money to Magnus, who promptly counts it and tries to hand most of it back.

“No, please. Keep it. I won’t be able to afford your services for two weeks, so I estimated how much I would use normally. This is my atonement, not yours.”

“I don’t want you to give me too much money. You just told me what it does to people.”

Isak bites on the inside of his lip. Why has money, the simplest thing in Isak’s life, suddenly become so fucking complicated?

“I’m not giving it to you. I’m honouring my part of the deal. It’s just like in business, I have purchased exclusiveness and it’s my decision if I use those assets or not. I’m buying your services, but simply not using them, as is my prerogative.”

Magnus shakes his head.

“And is that a relationship you wish to create with me, Isak? A merchant and a buyer? I thought you liked me more than that.”

Magnus hands the money over, and this time Isak takes it. Still, he hesitates.

“I’m not supposed to have this much money. Can you at least keep it for me?”

“Sure”, Magnus says, taking the money back. “Not as a service, though. As a favour. Of a friend.”

“If you want to be friends you will have to stop calling me sir.”

Magnus smirks.

“We shall see about that.”

Ten minutes later Isak is standing in his new apartment, his bags at his feet. He steps over them to walk further in. It has a separate bedroom but no real kitchen, just a microwave oven and a two burner stove-top placed on a table under a window. The place is tiny. It would fit inside Isak’s bathroom, all of it, with some room to spare.

It’s well enough for one person. Especially for two weeks. Isak sits down on the bean bag chair and sinks into it, hitting his tail bone on the floor. He grabs a pillow that now has an obvious reason for just lying on the floor and manages to wiggle it under his ass. That’s better.

Isak makes a deep sigh and finally takes a proper look around him. It’s. Small. It’s little. It’s barely. It’s enough. Isak listens to the sounds of the building around him and tries to remember when he has felt this alone. He can’t come up with anything.

Tomorrow should be easier. He’ll go to work and see people, and learn things. He loves learning things. He is a bit nervous about his first day, since he has never had a job like that, but he is sure he can manage. The book store will not be bankrupt because of something he does, and if it will, he can undo the damage in two weeks.

That’s something Jonas hasn’t considered, perhaps? Isak can undo this all. Normal people can’t. They will have to live with their choices and their doings for the rest of their lives. Isak has so much wealth he has the power to erase. To rewrite history. No matter how long Isak sits in this tiny apartment, it’s not permanent.

Isak collapses on his side. The styrofoam beads inside the chair rattle gently. He can hear a child screaming somewhere in the building. They don’t sound like they’re in distress, they’re just not having their way. Isak can kind of relate to that right now. He closes his eyes, the faux leather of the beanbag clinging to his cheek. Nothing in here smells familiar. Isak takes his wallet and pulls out all the cash he has. He buries his face in the pile, inhaling slowly.


	54. Even

Even gets up when he hears the door. That must be Eskild and the painkillers. He steps out of his room and freezes on his tracks. It’s not Eskild. It’s Mikael. Beautiful, broken Mikael, his dark eyes huge and wild, his arms huddled tightly around his body. Mikael lets out a huge sigh, his shoulders relax.

“Fucking finally”, Mikael huffs. “I was fucking terrified the whole way home.”

Even cocks his head a bit. Mik was scared? Why? Maybe he was worried about Even?

“What’s the matter?”

Mikael sees the bandages on Even’s arm. He gasps, and rushes to Even, to take Even’s hand and pull his arm out for examining. While he does that, two big stacks of money fall out from under his jacket. When they’re just lying on the floor like that, they look like paper. And familiar.

“What the fuck, Mikael?”

Mik is busy twisting and pulling Even’s arm. It hurts enough for Even to shove Mikael away from the shoulder.

“Fucking ow?”

“Sorry!” Mikael squeaks, pulling his hands on his face. “What happened? Did you hurt yourself on purpose? Please tell me you didn’t.”

Even’s top lip curls up a bit. He doesn’t know what to say. He wants to keep it a secret, and he knows it’s too late for that, and he wants to stab Mikael with something, and this is a knife he is holding in his hand now isn’t this?

“For old time’s sake.” Even grabs Mikael’s arm, pressing his thumb through the sleeve on the spot where you can’t see a scar if you don’t know what you were looking for. Mikael looks at Even like he just slapped him. In a way, he did.

“Let go of me, asshole”, Mikael hisses and yanks his arm away. He seems to remember the money again and goes to collect it from the floor. Pain is throbbing up Even’s arm. He welcomes it. Great source of adrenaline. Makes him fight harder. Dirtier.

“Who did you have to blow to get that kind of money?”

That was a poor choice of words. Mikael looks up at him with the sweetest smile.

“You should know. You’re the one in the business.”

“DId you just call me a whore?”

Mikael shrugs. He’s holding the money with his both hands, like cradling it.

“Aren’t you one?”

“I don’t have a choice!” Even’s voice cracks. He wipes his nose with an angry wrist. “It’s all I know how to do. I must be good for something, don’t I?”

Mikael doesn’t say anything. He lowers his hands slowly and puts the money on the side table. Two neat stacks, looks like about ten grand -- wait. Fuck. No.

“Where did you get that?”

“You really think like that? That all you’re good for is prostitution?”

“You got it from him, didn’t you?”

“I’m so sorry, Even. I never should have let you start working as an escort. I should have known.”

Even snatches a stack in his hand. He feels the bills carefully. He knows this money. He knows where it came from, and the thought of Mikael on his knees in front of Isak Valtersen twists his guts into a knot, about the size of a fist. There is no reason for that. He has no claim over Mikael, even less for Isak, and this is good, proper money that will pay for the rent now that Even is too much of a mess to be bringing home any cash. This is a good thing.

If it’s that good, why are they both in tears right now?

“Fuck”, Even sighs, shaking his head. He opens his arms, and Mikael comes. He steps against Even’s chest, letting Even wrap his good arm around him, bury his face in the silky black hair. “I’m sorry.”

“No”, Mikael sniffles. “I’m sorry. I should have been stronger.”

“But you are strong, Mickey. You’re stronger than anyone I know.”

Mikael shakes his head. All of him is shaking.

“I’m not. Strong people take care of themselves and their friends. All I do is fuck things up further.” Mikael clings to Even’s shirt. No matter how hard Even tries, he can’t stroke the shaking away. “I don’t want you to die because I’m not there for you. Please don’t die.”

Even almost laughs. He would laugh, if this wasn’t such a serious matter. Dead serious.

“I won’t die, silly.”

“You tried to slit your wrist”, Mikael whimpers. Even swallows. He has to tell Mikael. No matter how stupid it is, and how mad it will make Mikael. It’s not right that Mik thinks he’s dying.

“I didn’t. I had an episode. I didn’t want to die, I didn’t try to die, I just. I got lost in myself.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. I was stupid, and then the wound got infected, but Eskild helped me out and I’ll be fine soon enough. Back on my feet.” Back on his hands and knees. It doesn’t matter. He has a young, pretty body, better use it while he still has it.

Speaking of.

“Why did Isak Valtersen pay you, Mik?”

Mikael doesn’t respond quickly enough. His attempt to lie is a poor one.

“Who told you he paid me?”

“You did, just now. Spill it.” Even is still holding Mikael. It feels easier, to speak into his hair instead of facing him. It gives his body something else to feel than the pain in his arm.

“I went to ask him about you”, Mikael says. He’s mumbling into Even’s shirt, Even can barely hear him. “I know I shouldn’t have. But you were so. Gone. You didn’t speak, eat or sleep, I just wanted to know if something happened while you were there.”

Even bites his lip. If something happened. Oh, Mikael.

“But his boyfriend was there, and he basically shoved all this money to me and kicked me out.”

Even can barely hear the rest of Mikael’s sentence, because the beginning of it makes his brain shut down. His boyfriend. Boyfriend? Isak’s boyfriend?

“I’m sorry, what boyfriend?”

Even pushes Mikael back softly. Mikael looks up at him.

“I don’t know? There was a guy in there with him, and he said he’s tired of little bitches like us around his man. He gave me the money ‘for my troubles’, then said he’d destroy me and my loved ones if I told anybody, and kicked me out.”

Okay, so at least Mikael hasn’t sold anything to Isak. That’s a bigger relief Even expected it to be. His legs want to shake, so he sits down on the couch just in case.

“He never mentioned a boyfriend”, Even says slowly. It doesn’t make sense. Isak Valtersen is the last man on Earth Even would believe to have a boyfriend, and that group of men includes the Pope.

“Well, there he was.  _ My man. _ Those were the words used, and they weren’t denied.”

Okay. Okay. How drunk has Even been for those days? How crazy has he been? Crazy enough to turn himself into an ink bottle. But is that crazy enough to come up with an elaborate fantasy about a billionaire desperate for love?

Well. The plot is straight from Pretty Woman, isn’t it?

“Even?” Mikael’s voice seems to be coming from far away. Like Even is under water. Mikael kneels down on the floor in front of Even, grabbing his knees. “Ev? Hello?”

“I don’t feel so good”, Even whispers. Mikael nods.

“Should we try to get you some sleep? I may have something.”

Even shakes his head.

“I took my meds. I started yesterday. It’s not a good idea to be popping some random pills right now. But if you have something for pain?”

Mikael makes a little miserable laugh.

“I’m not a pharmacy. But I can visit a real one? Paracetamol, right?”

“Eskild is bringing some when he gets home.”

“Oh, so some time between now and next week? You know how Eskild is. He’s like a rock when he’s around, but when he’s not --”

“Shut up, Mik.” Even presses his fingertips on his eyelids for a moment. “Please.”

Mikael stands up. Even can hear him walk to the side table. He can hear him handle the money. The familiar, comforting rustle.

“I’ll be back in fifteen minutes. Could you order us a pizza meanwhile?”

“Ugh, no.” Even’s face must turn a bit green, because Mikael giving up on pizza is almost unheard of.

“Okay. I’ll grab us smoothies or something.” Mikael takes more money from the stack. Then he returns to Even and leans down to kiss his forehead. “Twenty minutes. Hang on.”

“I will.” Even stretches himself out on the couch. His legs stick out over the arm rest, but it’s not too bad. He will manage. He will.


	55. Isak

Isak stares into his coffee mug, his face and his mind blank. It’s his first break on his first shift on his first day, and he’s already exhausted. It’s not the work that’s draining him, but the secret. His whole being is on constant alert, on the look-out for someone recognising him. As if that would be an actual problem. None of his acquaintances were likely to visit a book store personally in the first place, let alone in this neighbourhood. Besides, nobody ever really looked at the people who were serving them, especially when they were screwing up with the register all the time.

His back is also killing him. He didn’t expect to be on his feet this much, and he would need to buy a better pair of shoes today after work. He can only hope there’s a sale somewhere, and that they have his size left. He didn’t bring any food to work today, because he figured he’d grab a bite somewhere, but this shoe thing means he would have to skip lunch. At least the break room has free coffee and cookies. Isak glances at the door and takes a fourth one.

This is ridiculous. He has money. He could call Magnus and ask him to bring him some lunch, and Jonas would never find out. Magnus has his money, quite a bit of it, and it’s simply idiotic that he’s skipping meals instead of using what is his.

Isak takes a sip of his now lukewarm coffee to wash the cookie down and shakes his head at himself. No. He can’t cheat. This is an exercise of discipline, a sacrifice, a ritual, and it will set him free of Jonas. If he cheats, some threads might be left uncut. Isak needs to do this, and he needs to do this properly. Otherwise Jonas will win, and if he wins, he has leverage.

Isak can’t give Jonas any more leverage. Jonas can’t handle it.

“Jan? Hello? Earth to Jan?”

It takes Isak a couple of seconds more to remember, that his name is supposed to be Jan. He turns to look at the door. It’s his manager, this nice lady in her forties, whose name Isak has completely forgotten.

“There you are”, she says. She’s smiling at Isak. She has a friendly smile, that seems genuine, not just something thrown at customers to make them comfortable. “I thought you had fallen asleep with your eyes open.”

“Sorry”, Isak says, blushing. “I got lost in my thoughts.”

“If you’re thinking about the register, don’t worry about it. You will get the hang of it in a couple of days.”

“I wouldn’t count on it”, Isak sighs. He knows he’s smart, but at least half of his brain capacity is busy working on his life change, and the other half is worried about being discovered. There isn’t much left for all those buttons and functions he’s supposed to master.

“Nonsense. Everyone has learned it, even I have, and I really don’t get along with technology.” She laughs. It’s a friendly sound. It makes Isak smile a bit.

“I’ll have to take your word for it, won’t I?”

“See? I knew you learned fast.”

By the end of the work day Isak had to admit she was right. He still makes mistakes, but he is getting the hang of it, and when he clocks out he is fairly certain that he will get it by the end of tomorrow’s shift. If his body can make it that far, that is. He’s famished, and his feet have joined his back in the war against their master. He barely made it through his first shift, and he still has so many things to figure out and organise. Groceries. Shoes. Okay that’s the list, but right now it feels much longer than it is.

Fuck this. He needs to eat. Isak steps inside a pizza place and orders a random one. He’ll eat anything, he’s not picky and right now hungry enough to eat pebbles if they would help. He sits down on a wobbly plastic chair in front of small table to wait for his food to be prepared. Big mistake. He already knows that he won’t be able to force his legs into co-operation and walk him home.

Isak takes his phone out. He can’t call for a cab, and he would definitely not call Magnus because Magnus would give him a free ride. A tram rides past the window, and Isak could kick himself if he could move his legs. Public transportation is the obvious solution. He opens the map app and starts to figure out how to make it tell him if he could take the tram home.

The pizza smells delicious when it is laid in front of Isak, piping hot. It’s pre-cut into slices, and Isak has been to Italy enough times to know how to eat a pizza. He grabs a slice, folds it a bit so it’s more stable, and digs in. It tastes just as good as it did in Milan. If not better. Isak wolfs down six slices and tries to have a seventh, but he is stuffed. He burps into his fist. There are two slices left, and it feels like a waste, but he can’t have another bite.

“To go?”

Isak raises his eyes from his plate.

“Excuse me?”

“You want the rest to go? Just bring the plate over and I’ll wrap it up for you.”

Huh. That’s clever. That makes so much sense. Isak nods.

“In a moment. Thank you.”

He takes out his phone again. He needs five more minutes to negotiate with his body. He promises it to take it straight home, by a tram, and to try on the shoes in the apartment’s closet in case he finds a suitable pair there. If he doesn’t, he will go to the shoe store first thing tomorrow.

It takes him ten minutes, but he wins the debate. He pushes himself up on his feet and brings the pizza to be wrapped. He puts the tinfoil package in his bag. It feels cold in his hand. It’s going to be his lunch tomorrow.

The tram stop isn’t too far away. Isak doesn’t sit down this time. He can’t stand still, either, so he just walks back and forth as he waits. He’s happy he doesn’t have to wait for long. The tram arrives and he boards it, and approaches the driver.

“How much for a ticket?” Isak asks, quietly. He’s certain everyone is staring at him, but when he looks, everybody’s got their eyes glued to their phones. Except the driver, who is looking annoyed.

“We don't sell tickets on board. You need a travel card.”

Isak blinks, confused. A travel card?

“Where can I buy one?”

The driver actually groans.

“I need you to exit the tram if you don’t have a ticket.”

“I’m trying to buy a ticket!” Someone glances up from their phone and Isak regrets raising his voice. He can’t make a scene. People will notice. Someone might recognise him. So, he backs down, out of the tram, and watches the doors close in front of him. The tram rides away, leaving him standing on the stop, on his sore, exhausted feet.


	56. Even

Even sits by the kitchen table, stroking at the piles of cash with his fingertips. It’s not his money. It’s Mikael’s. But Mikael has stolen from him, eight and a half grand, and Even knows he said it’s okay but back then he didn’t think he needed money. Now he does. He needs a phone. He needs a doctor, and pills, and he needs to get his life back together.

For that, he needs cash. He has spent all of his, and he isn’t fit for working right now. Well, it isn’t actually hard to suck a dick for money, but the sad, pathetic truth is that Even doesn’t dare walk down that road right now. He’s still barely in balance. All it would take is the slightest push, and he would be plummeting into another manic episode. He can feel it in his bones. It’s itching, just under his skin.

Even scratches the edge of his bandage. It’s a painful relief. He picks up a stack and recounts it. Three grand. It should be enough for the cheapest smartphone and a prepaid sim card. He can’t help but think about Mikael’s new iPhone, bitterly, but he will not ask Mik to give it to him instead. So, he’s basically being super generous here, right? Taking just three grand to get himself a shitty phone, letting Mikael keep the shiny new toy. He’s practically a saint.

Even slips the money in his pocket and stands up. Mik has been gone for what feels like hours. Even needs a phone to pass the time. He will go get a phone, and a prepaid, and return home well before Mikael notices he was ever gone. He leaves the rest of the money on the table. He’s worried that if he touches it, he will be tempted to take it all.

He runs into Mikael in the stairs. Mikael looks incredible, with his frost nipped cheeks and the white fur framing his face. Even gets an urge to kiss him, and that means he is not well at all.

“Where are you going?” Mikael asks. He sounds reluctant, like he doesn’t want to know, but has to ask anyway. Even feels a bit similar. He doesn’t want to answer, but he has to.

“To buy a phone.”

“Okay.” Mikael nods slowly, biting his lip. He pulls his hood down. “Where did you get the money for that?”

Even is squirming a bit. This feels like an interrogation, while he hasn’t done anything wrong. It’s not fair.

“You owe me.” It comes out more spiteful than Even means it. But it’s true. Mikael owes him, and it’s not fair that he has a brand new iPhone while Even has nothing. “I took three grands. Enough for a cheap Samsung and a prepaid.”

Mikael is blinking rapidly. His eyes look wet. A part of Even is happy to see it.

“I never asked you for --”

“Bullshit!” Even spits. “Sure, you didn’t tell me to buy you a phone, but don’t think I haven’t heard all those small stabs through the years. You blame me for not having a better life, and I suppose you’re right, but you don’t get to tell me you never asked for it.”

Mikael bites on his lip again. When he lets go, Even wipes his lip with his thumb.

“I’m sorry I screwed your life up.”

Mikael steps back, but in a way that puts him between Even and the door. Clever boy.

“Let’s go together”, Mikael says. “I should get a proper case for my phone, I can check out the selection while you get what you need.”

Even pinches his lips together. He wants to tell Mikael he doesn’t need a babysitter, but he also knows that would be a lie.

“You know what? Let’s get some more money from home and go eat somewhere. Whatever you want.”

Even is squirming again. He should eat. He is feeling kind of dizzy if he stops to think about it, and he can’t remember the last time he ate something, and the little plastic bag from the pharmacy Mikael is holding is looking quite alluring.

“Can I get the second shittiest Samsung?” Even asks quietly. Mikael nods.

“You can. Or, we could find out how much it costs to get a new screen on my old phone? It’s pretty good otherwise, just covered in cracks.”

That makes sense. It is a nice phone, way better than some stupid Android device Even wouldn’t know how to use anyway. It’s also a relief to have some kind of a plan, that includes. Well. A babysitter.

“Sounds good.”

They make their way back inside. Mikael hurries his steps a bit to get to the money on the kitchen table, but he doesn’t say anything. He simply gathers the cash in one pile and shoves it in his coat pocket.

“Here”, Mikael says, placing the bag on the table. “Painkillers. And a smoothie for both of us. Drink yours while I go find the phone.”

Even slumps down on the chair. He digs out the packet of pills and presses two on his palm. He washes them down with the smoothie. It’s from the store, bottled stuff, but it tastes sweet and goes down easily. It’s all he can ask for, really. He has drunk all of it when Mikael returns.

“Got it. Shall we?”

Even sighs. He’s suddenly completely drained. He can barely keep his head up, let alone consider going out to run errands.

“Can you go for me? My arm is hurting.” It’s not a lie, but it’s not the whole truth. If Mik knows it, he doesn’t care.

“Of course. Can I have the money for the new screen, please?”

Even hesitates. He places his fingers on his pocket, on the comforting mass of power printed on paper. He doesn’t want to give it up, though he knows, that it’s only powerful if it can be used. He can’t use cash without leaving the house.

“Here.” Even pulls the money out and slaps it on the table. He pushes himself up on his feet with the same momentum. “Don’t forget to get me a prepaid as well. With data.”

“Well duh?” Mikael rolls his eyes and smiles as he scoops up the money. “Can I do something else for you? Anything?”

Well, he could kiss Even’s ass. Even frowns at the thought. It wasn’t his money. He stole it from Mikael, and now he’s upset Mikael takes it back, in order to use it just like Even himself would have. It’s like Even told that rich prick earlier. Love is bullshit. Money is everything.

“I’m good. I’ll try to take a nap or something while the pain killers kick in. Wake me up when my phone is here.”

Mikael nods. He is just lingering there at the kitchen doorway, looking at Even. He looks worried, and sad. Looking at him makes Even sad as well. He has to blink harder for a bit.

“I’m sorry”, Even whispers. “I don’t. My head is a mess.”

Mikael steps up and wraps his arms around Even. He gives Even a tight squeeze.

“It won’t be like that forever. You’re going to get better soon.”

Right now, Even doesn’t believe that. Maybe Mikael can believe for both of them.


	57. Isak

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promised complicated, but this is only semi-complicated. Oh well.
> 
> very mild cw: cutting

Isak closes the cabinet door slowly. He’s finally home, and he’s tired, and in pain, and looking for painkillers. He didn’t find any, but. He looks at the closed cabinet door. He doesn’t know if it’s within the rules. Should he have bought his own? He can’t bring himself to walk another step today. He doesn’t even want to put his shoes on again.

Fuck it.

Isak opens the cabinet, takes the half empty bottle of bad, cheap vodka and closes the door again. He takes a mug, because he doesn’t immediately see any glasses, and fills it up. He knows he has nothing to use as a mixer, except tap water, so he doesn’t bother. He knows he has enough discipline to down this shit as is.

He takes the mug to the bathroom. The tub has filled up. Isak turns the water off, places the mug on the washing machine and undresses slowly. He can’t move too quickly, or he might sprain something in his back. He hopes the bath and booze will soften it up enough to let him sleep tonight.

Isak turns off the light and opens the ambience app on his phone. The light is soft, blueish green, and the music is pleasant, barely noticeable. It’s almost like home, isn’t it? Isak steps into the tub and slides into the water. It’s warm. It’s comfortable. The tub is tiny. Isak has to bend his knees to fit in there, and even then it’s crowded.

The burn of the vodka makes Isak’s face twist. He coughs, too, shaking his head. Fuck, that’s terrible. It tastes like gasoline. Well, not quite, but it lacks the pleasant, crisp nothingness of a good quality vodka, properly cooled down, served from a chilled glass. Isak closes his eyes for a moment. He misses home. He didn’t expect it to happen this soon, but then again, he didn’t expect normal life to be this  _ bothersome. _

Fuck, he sounds like a prick. Privileged little prick. His so called bothers have been so minor. A sore back. Aching feet. A bit of embarrassment. It’s nothing. He’s just weak. He’s pathetic. He’s got nothing without his money, and Jonas has always known it.

Even has known it.

Isak blinks his eyes open. He didn’t mean to think about Even. Must be the bath. The green light. The slight buzz of vodka. The exhaustion. The misery. The backdrop of him and Even, the scene happening over and over again. The sting of alcohol. The sound of water. The heated breath, the touch of skin.

Isak slips his hand between his legs. The water is nice and warm, his skin is smooth, and he really, really needs this after a rough day. He closes his eyes again, focusing on the memory of Even’s body. How long and lean it was. How strong. His beautiful skin, his flat chest, his -- Isak whimpers at the thought. It felt so good inside him. It tasted so good. It felt. Tasted. Felt.

He whispers Even’s name when he comes. The guilt hits him immediately. That name is not for him anymore. It never was. He simply paid for the right to use it, temporarily. Isak waves his hand underwater to swirl his semen out of sight. It dissolves in the bath. Isak draws a deep breath and slides his hips forward. He can barely get his face below the surface.

The green light above him beckons him. He doesn’t give in to it yet. He needs a break first. The silence in the water. The touch of sacred. The pressure in his lungs that he’s fighting, the urge to push himself up and just breathe. He’s stronger than that. He can be strong. His fingers curl up around the edges of the tub and squeeze.

It’s almost like a high when the oxygen finally rushes into him. A bit of water splashes on the floor. He’ll clean it up later. Now he’s busy gasping, and breathing, pushing the blackness he has learned to call wicked out of his body.

It’s not enough. Isak’s head is still full of Even. His smile, the rare flashes of real smiles, how they made his eyes squint. His hands. His big, beautiful hands, and how gentle they could be, how soft. His kindness. He built Isak a fort of secrets. What kind of a hooker builds a fort? A ten grand one?

Isak has no idea what’s the market price for a prostitute, but he has the hunch he underpaid Even. He pretends to be so high and mighty, the great philanthropist with his ethical wardrobe and furniture and research facilities and grants and scholarships, and then he sees someone pretty and exploits him shamelessly.

He wipes his hand dry and reaches for his phone, careful to not drop it in the water. Jonas has changed his number, but Isak has the new one, from the voice message Jonas left him. He writes a message and erases it, over and over again, until he finally hits Send.

_ You are right about me. _

There. It’s done. All it took was one day, and Jonas won. It doesn’t matter. What’s true is true, whether Isak is willing to admit it or not.

Isak almost drops the phone in the bath when it buzzes in his hand. It’s from Jonas.

_ You don’t get off the hook this easy. Two weeks. _

Isak shouldn’t reply. It’s obvious that Jonas isn’t listening to what he has to say. He’s not interested, and Isak can’t blame him. He can’t blame anyone but himself. Still, he types the message and sends it. His current address, with an invitation for Jonas to come see for himself if Isak is obeying the rules or not. Jonas doesn’t respond.

The vodka still tastes terrible. Isak forces himself to swallow it, sip by tiny sip, until his bath water is cold and his mug empty. He puts the mug on the wet floor and stands up slowly. The vodka has done its thing. He is drunk now. Not wasted, but drunk, and his step could be steadier as he walks out of the bathroom, naked and dripping water.

At least his feet feel better.

Isak goes to get his wallet and empties it on the table to count his money. He turns it inside out and shakes it. Something small falls out. Metal, wrapped in plastic, with a small red stain on it. Isak can’t stop looking at it when he recognises it. It’s Even. The ghost of Even, the memory, the essence. His DNA.

Isak is swaying a bit. He presses his fingertip on the tape covered blade, pushing it against the table. He can imagine Even holding it in his hand. Bleeding. The traditional sacrifice, isn’t it? The blood of the lamb. He’s no lamb, though, but he can always seek for redemption.

He picks up the blade and peels the tape off carefully. He doesn’t want to lose any of the red stain. It’s all he has left of Even. Only this. It’s more than he has asked for. He hasn’t paid for this. Or, in a way he has. Jonas gave money to Mikael. The standard fee. That’s what Even costs, no matter the amount of him delivered. A fixed price.

Isak brings the blade to the side of his wrist, right under his thumb. He presses down. He’s watching his skin be pushed down, almost but not quite splicing, and holds his breath. He could get closer to Even. Join their blood. Their bodies. All it would take is moving his hand, one little slice.

God, he misses Even. Now that he’s cooped up in here, without his normal distractions, forced to really listen to himself and his thoughts, it’s painfully obvious. He misses Even. It hurts. Almost physically. Isak looks at the valley of skin around the blade and knows how easy it would be to make it hurt physically as well.

Isak brings the blade up in front of his face to look at it closer. The crimson stain looks almost beautiful. It has a curve similar to Even’s bottom lip. Isak wants to kiss it, but that would ruin it. Erase it. Or worse, Isak might cut himself and cover the stain with his own blood.

He takes a clean mug and puts the blade in the bottom of it, careful to not cut his fingers. He places the mug on the table. It’s safe there. Preserved. Isak has tainted Even enough already, he has to keep his memory intact. It’s all he has left.


	58. Even

Even is holding Mikael’s hand as they exit the clinic. In his other hand he’s holding a pile of paper. Forms for him to fill up and return next time, and prescriptions for his medication. At least holding something keeps his hands from shaking. His legs aren’t as fortunate. Mikael is too short to hold him up properly.

“What did they say?” Mikael asks quietly. Even shakes his head. He doesn’t want to talk about his appointment. It was fucking humiliating. He had spilled everything, except the identity of the wealthy man he partied with. He didn’t mention Jonas either. He has no way of knowing the doctor believed half of his story anyway, he didn’t need to make it more incredible with irrelevant details.

“Same as always. Bipolar.”

Mikael leans his head on Even’s arm briefly.

“I’m sorry”, he says. “But you are seeing your doctor and taking your meds again. It will be okay.”

“He said I should not drink”, Even confesses, wiping his mouth. “Or pop any pills. He said I shouldn’t party in this condition.”

The worst bit is that Even knows his doctor is right. He shouldn’t be partying. His balance is so delicate right now, practically anything can push him over the edge. He squeezes on Mikael’s hand tighter. Please, Mik.

“I can’t live in a party house.”

Mikael doesn’t let go of Even’s hand. Even can’t understand why.

“Okay.”

Even can’t look at Mikael. Still, he has to. He steps a bit to the side, his hand still in Mikael’s hand.

“Mik. This is serious. I’m scared for my life.”

Mikael pulls his hand away. Instead, he wraps his arms around Even and hugs him, tightly.

“So am I. We must get you well again. No parties in the house.”

“Are you sure? We’re party boys.”

Mikael nods.

“I’m sure. Besides, I can always go to other parties.”

Even pulls his lips into the position of a smile.

“You can. Just be safe.”

“I’ll be fine”, Mikael sighs. He nuzzles his face on Even’s chest before stepping back. “I always will. And now we’ll go get ourselves some coffee. That’s a permitted drug, right?”

Now Even smiles for real.

“It better be.”

“KB?”

“Can we go to the nice one? The one with the wicker chairs hanging form the ceiling?”

Mikael tries to protest, because it’s so far away, but his heart isn’t really in it. Even has the advantage of not being well. People do favours for sick people.

“Fine. But I’m not walking that far, this wind is brutal.”

They take the tram. Even leans his head on the window, with Mikael under his arm. He could use a good spooning right now, but with this height difference he must settle for being the big spoon. At least Mikael is warm, and smells good, and feels familiar.

Mikael buzzes. Even can feel it against his ribs, and for a second it confuses the hell out of him. Then Mikael wiggles his phone out of his chest pocket and Even understands. Of course. He was being stupid. He’s still so shaken his brain isn’t working properly. Mikael reads the message and bites his lip.

“Someone special?”

Mik shakes his head.

“No.”

“You have his name and number in your phone”, Even remarks. Mikael blushes.

“He can wait.”

“If you make him wait too long he might find someone else.”

Mikael shrugs, pretending he doesn’t care. He cares. Even knows of three guys in total whose number Mikael has actually added to his contacts. He has screwed up his own relationships, and he is not going to screw up Mikael’s.

“When did you meet?”

“At your welcome home party”, Mikael mumbles. “We’ve been texting a bit. It’s nothing.”

Even feels Mikael’s hair with his fingertips. Black silk.

“Could it become something?”

“If it can’t wait until you don’t need me anymore it never stood a chance.”

“Excuse me?” Even raises his voice enough to make Mikael pull back and look around them. Mikael touches Even’s knee. Even shakes his hand off. “I’m sorry, is my insanity holding you back from dating people?”

“Of course not. Please, calm down.”

That’s just it, isn’t it. All these years Mikael hasn’t had anyone for real, just some texting and a couple of dates, and lots and lots of casual sex, and apparently it’s because of Even needing too much of his attention. Poor, poor Mik. That just isn’t proper, is it?

“So I’m the reason your love life is nonexistent? Wow. I’m  _ so glad _ you let me know on time this time.” Even can hear his own voice break a little. His cheeks are flushed red. He can pretend it’s from anger.

“Even, please! Stop yelling! People are looking.” Mikael is trying to keep his tone calm and low, but he is getting agitated. Even is making a scene again. Crazy Even and his crazy fits, what a fucking embarrassment. Even presses the stop button.

“Move.”

“Even, just --”

Even pushes past Mikael. He almost trips on his own fucking legs. And on Mikael’s legs, and his bag which he has to yank free from the tangle with more force than he intended to use. Mikael makes a pained little sound and Even has to get the fuck out of his tram right now. He bangs on the door with his palm, looking at the driver through the mirror.

“Come on! Open!”

“Even we’re not on a stop, the light is red”, Mikael says. Even kicks at the doors.

“Open!”

The driver presses the button and the doors slide open. Even jumps out of the tram in the middle of the crossroad. He makes his way past the cars to the sidewalk and turns to see if Mikael followed him. The light turns green and the traffic starts moving again. Figures. Mikael is probably happy Even left, so he can text that guy without disturbance.

Even squeezes his eyes shut for a moment and kicks on the wall. Someone is shouting a couple of doors down the street. Even is about to tell them to fuck off, when he recognises the voice. It’s Isak. And he isn’t shouting at him.

“I thought my shift started at noon!” Isak is yelling at the man who is holding the book store door open. Even stares at them with his mouth open. Isak doesn’t look like himself at all. No sharp suit. No smart shoes. No expensive watch, or well trained posture. He looks just like any other guy on the street does, except that he is Isak fucking Valtersen yelling at a book salesman and this doesn’t make sense at all.

“You show up late, clearly hungover, on your second day. I was doing you a favour, kid, not the other way round. Now leave, or I will call the cops on you.”

Isak is not happy. He’s not angry, either. Even has seen that man desperate enough times to know what it looks like.

“Please! I need this job.”

“You should have thought of that before dragging your hungover ass to my store four hours late. Get lost. I mean it.”

Even can hear the bell above the door jingle as the man slams the door closed in Isak’s face. Isak’s fists open and close a couple of times, until his shoulders slump and he shoves his hands in his pockets. He turns to leave, and raises his eyes, and now he sees Even. He sees Even sees him, and there they stand, in the ice cold wind, frozen.


	59. Isak

Isak Valtersen is a man who is used to having his wants and needs catered immediately. At least most of them. There are the deep, buried needs, the dark desires that taste like grenadine in the back of his mouth, or the hollow pain that even thinking about Jonas evokes, but  _ in general _ his life has always run rather smoothly, without him ever noticing.

Now, a door has been slammed in his face. Isak has to admit that his now sadly ex-boss had a point. He is hungover. And four hours late. It was an accident. He overslept. He was up until like four or five, feeling sorry for himself, and then he fell asleep on the couch without putting an alarm on. A simple mistake he now has to pay for.

Isak glares at the bastard one last time and shoves his hands in his pocket. He turns to leave, when he sees Even. It can’t be him. It’s not how life works. It’s simply not realistic that the one thing Isak wanted is suddenly given to him, now when he has nothing else.

He’s an idiot.

Of course Even is not  _ given _ to him. He’s a person. He probably doesn’t want to see Isak, or have anything to do with him, especially now when Isak can’t pay him. Isak’s shoulders slump forward, and he presses his chin on his chest. Just to take cover from the wind.

Neither of them moves.

Isak hears a bell ringing.

“I told you to get lost!”

Isak doesn’t turn his eyes away from Even. He doesn’t dare. He’s certain, that if he looks away, Even will disappear. He takes a slow, hesitant step. It’s easier than he thought. All he has to do is give in to the gravity of Even’s body, to fall into him. Step by step, accelerating barely noticeably, while Even keeps standing still and letting him descend.

He has to stop before the impact, but just barely.

“Hello”, Isak says. “You look well.”

It’s true. Even does look better than Isak remembered him looking in a while. Without the whiskey in his breath, or the red sugary stain on his lips.

Oh God, his lips.

“Uh. Hi.” Even frowns. He looks more than merely puzzled. “You’re Isak Valtersen. The billionaire. Right?”

Even looks really, really relieved when Isak nods. Then he looks confused again.

“What are you -- I mean -- You’re -- what?”

Isak sighs. Then he shivers. The wind is terribly cold. He should probably calculate how much money he would have without a job and readjust his daily budget accordingly, but right now he just wants to get warm.

“It’s a long story. Ish. Can we go somewhere for a cup of tea or something?”

“Story-ish or longish?”

“A bit of both, I suppose.”

“Tea, huh? Not champagne?”

Isak tries to smile lightheartedly.

“Champagne doesn’t warm you up.”

Even looks somewhere over Isak’s shoulder, with a hint of a wry smile on his lips.

“Yeah. I suppose it doesn’t.”

Isak can’t stop looking at Even. He’s so beautiful. Now that Isak has nothing of value but a drop of blood, it’s much easier to see. He can’t buy Even now, only look at him. He shivers with cold again.

“Why are you dressed like that?”

Isak looks at himself. Ah. Yes. This attire is different compared to the ones Even’s used to seeing him in. Very, very different.

“It’s part of the longish story-ish.”

Even chuckles. Small victories.

“Right.”

God, he is so beautiful. Isak almost steps closer. He wants to slip his hands inside Even’s open jacket to warm up.

“Can I touch you?” Isak asks, to his own horror. But everything else would be simply him lying to himself. He has to be brave now, because now is maybe his only chance. Isak Valtersen, the billionaire, can’t touch this beautiful man out in the street, but Isak Valtersen, the commoner, can. If Even only lets him.

Even arches his brow.

“Excuse me?”

Isak doesn’t say anything. He just stands there, listening to his heart beat faster, his breathing get more shallow. He wants to touch Even, and he has no way to explain it.

Even’s face turns hard and distant. He moves back, the slightest bit.

“I’m retired.”

A cold stone sinks into Isak’s belly. Even doesn’t feel like he does. That’s something Isak will have to accept.

“Are you retired from having tea, as well?”

“I prefer coffee”, Even says, slightly softer this time. Maybe there is some hope.

“I don’t have a coffee maker.”

Even looks confused again. Isak can’t blame him.

“This longish story-ish is getting more and more interesting, I’ll give you that.” Even looks over Isak’s shoulder again, into the distance. He shifts his weight on his other foot. “Usually people mention it when they invite people to their home instead of a coffee shop.”

“I -- I’m sorry. The story is. Private.” Isak presses his chin a bit lower, his voice only a mumble now. “It involves Jonas.”

A dark veil shrouds Even’s expression. Isak can only hope the pity he sees is actually there. He waits again, he waits forever.

Even frowns and takes out his phone. He looks at it, and his frown doesn’t smooth out at all. Isak would notice if it did, he is looking at Even so carefully he would notice the motion of a single skin cell. Even puts the phone back in his pocket and sighs.

“I do miss your doorman’s smile.”

Isak forgets to laugh because a million butterflies take off inside him. Even said yes. He’s agreeing to come into Isak’s apartment. He only doesn’t know where it is now.

“I can call him and ask him to send you a selfie. I have uh. Other accommodations right now.”

Isak just wants to bite Even’s lower lip ever so gently. His mouth is so deliciously cracked constantly, in his confusion. Even didn’t tell him directly that Isak can’t touch him, but Isak decides to take that as a no anyway.

“We can take the tram there. I have a travel card.” Isak takes the card out of his pocket and shows it to Even, who is, understandably, not quite as impressed as Isak for some idiotic reason thought he might. He just looks at the card, and Isak looks at it as well, and tries to not panic at the thought of how much money he spent on it compared to the fact that he doesn’t need it anymore since he won’t be commuting after all. He shoves the card in his pocket, blinking rapidly.

“Mine’s blue”, Even says. Isak looks up at him. It’s his turn to be confused.

“Sorry?”

“Yours had a white case. I have a blue one.” Even takes the card from his bag and holds it up. It is indeed blue. Isak smiles, almost laughing.

“I didn’t know they come in different colours.”

“I think my previous one was green. I lost it somewhere and had to get a new one. I think the blue is better.”

“That is a nice shade of blue.”

“I think so too. These things are important.”

Isak cocks his head.

“They are?”

Even grins.

“Nah. Honestly, I don’t give a fuck about the colour of my travel card, I just wanted to make you think about something else. Whatever it was that made your face look the way it did.”

Isak blushes a bit. He didn’t know Even was looking at his face carefully, as well. Maybe there is hope after all?

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”


	60. Even

Well. At least this is a distraction.

Even looks around in the apartment. It’s smaller than Isak’s walk-in closet is. Was. If Isak still had that place, why the fuck would he live like this? In this shithole? Even takes a peek in the bathroom and can’t help but laugh at the bathtub. The contrast to Isak’s spa is so stark.

“I know, right?” Isak is smiling. He seems to be excited to have Even in here. Of all places. “I barely fit in the tub.”

Isak opens the cabinets, in search for tea. There isn’t much in any of them. Even thought his place is a dump, but this? This is terrible. Even walks further in. He notices an empty bottle of vodka on the floor. It’s cheap. Everything in here is cheap and shitty, and Isak is supposed to be rich, isn’t he? Did he find someone who could pretend to love him in exchange for his whole property? Was it Jonas?

Wait.

Boyfriend.

“What have you done?”

“Sorry?”

“Mikael told me about your boyfriend. Were you really crazy enough to give your whole property to someone so they’d play house with you?”

Isak turns around to see Even, holding a packet of tea bags. He looks so lost, and kind of angry.

“It was just Jonas. It’s -- it was nothing.”

Even looks around them. There isn’t a kitchen in this apartment.

“Can you please at least try to explain this to me?”

“Yes!” Isak is getting intense. Even can feel the desperation radiate from him. It feels magnetic. “I’ll just make some tea and explain everything.”

“You know, I’m not cold right now. And I really don’t need tea. I’ll have some if you make it for yourself, but I don’t need it.”

Isak looks at the box in his hand. Then he places it on the table. He doesn’t seem to know what to do with his hands, or himself.

“Let’s sit down and you can tell me everything”, Even says. Isak looks at him like a stray dog that’s been thrown a piece of a hot dog. Grateful. Hungry. Even sits down on the couch and Isak sits down right next to him. He smells like yesterday’s vodka and cheap soap, and under that like himself. All familiar things.

Isak is squirming. He chuckles, a bit awkwardly, and rubs the back of his neck.

“I don’t know where to start.”

“Start by telling me where all your money is”, Even says. He doesn’t notice what it sounds like until it’s too late. He can’t unsay it, and explanations would only complicate things further. He will have to simply take Isak’s expression turning from a fed dog into a kicked one.

“It’s still there. This is only temporary. An experiment. A trial, you could say.”

Even is more relieved than he’d like to be. It’s not a flattering thought, to be happy that at least Jonas doesn’t have all the money forever.

“What kind of an experiment?”

“I’m trying to get rid of Jonas. For good, this time.”

Even reaches out and picks up the bottle from the door. He leans his elbows on his knees and holds the bottle in his hands, stroking at the torn edge of the label with his thumb.

“Good. I’m glad to have him out of your life.”

It is true. Ever since that first, weird party, Even has known that whatever Jonas is to Isak, he’s also trouble. Big trouble. Fuck, this is weird. To be here. Kind of hoping the bottle in his hands wouldn’t be empty. He doesn’t really know how to be around Isak while sober.

“Me too. I know you won’t believe it when I tell you, but he’s not really a bad guy. He hasn’t always been like that. Before I fucked up his life.”

Even shrugs.

“My life has always been fucked up, but I don’t -- I’m not like him. I hope.”

Isak shakes his head. There’s the tiniest little smile on his lips.

“You’re not like him. Not at all.”

There it is again. The warmth. The despair. The magnetism. Even is breathing slower.

“So, care to tell me more about this trial?”

“Jonas told me I must live like this for two weeks. Get a shitty job. A shitty apartment. Give up my money.” Isak sighs, looking around. “I thought it would be easy.”

Even hums. Right, right. Easy. So simple.

“I suppose you and I have a different standard of easy. Must have been quite a shock.” Even raises the bottle a bit. Isak blushes.

“I was just lonely and in pain. My job at the book store kept me up on my feet all day.”

Even smiles with half of his mouth.

“Yeah. Painkillers don’t help with lonely.”

Is it just him, or is Isak closer to him than when they sat down?

“Do you get lonely?” Isak asks. He moves his hand, to touch Even’s face, but changes his mind and lowers his hand on his own knee instead.

“What, prostitutes don’t get lonely?”

“I thought you were retired.”

Even shrugs. He starts scratching the label off the bottle with his thumbnail. The glue gathers under it.

“My doctor told me it would be necessary if I want to get better.”

“You’ve seen your doctor?” Isak sounds relieved. Even nods.

“Today. I’ve been back on my meds for three days now.”

“Thank God”, Isak sighs. Even glares at him from the corner of his eye.

“Leave your imaginary friends out of this.”

“I’m sorry. I’m just. I’m glad you’re getting better. It’s already showing.”

Even frowns, looking at his knee. When did Isak’s thigh start touching his?

“I’m not getting better. I’m never going to get better. I’m bipolar, for life.”

Isak takes the bottle from Even and places it on the floor. Somehow the bottle gets replaced by Isak’s fingers. They feel a bit cool.

“I know that. What I meant was that. You’re not. Spiralling?”

Even is barely hearing what Isak is saying. His attention is focused on his hand in Isak’s hands, how he’s turning it over slowly, to draw the lines on his palm. The life line. The heart line. Back and forth, over and over again, barely touching.

Even lowers his head on Isak’s shoulder. He can feel Isak stop breathing for a second.

“I didn’t tell my doctor about you. I said I partied with a rich customer, but I didn’t mention your name, or Jonas, or any other specifics.”

Isak’s thumb presses lightly on Even’s wrist, on his pulse.

“Thank you.”

“It wouldn’t have been professional, either. Hookers don’t kiss and tell. Especially high end ones.”

They’re quiet for a moment.

“Is that what you think it was? That you were my.” Isak hesitates to say the word. But he says it anyway. “Hooker?”

Even shrugs. His cheek rubs against Isak’s shoulder.

“Wasn’t I?”

Isak stops breathing again. This time for longer, until he exhales slowly.

“I don’t know.”

Even should just leave. He has heard the story, that wasn’t really long or really a story, and he has no more business in here. But the magnetism is still there. Nothing, literally nothing is forcing him to stay still, Isak’s grip on his hand is so light, and still. Even can’t pull away. Their bodies are locked together.

“Am I now?”

“I just lost my job at the book store. If you’re here for the money, you’re going to be disappointed.”

Even stands up. Just to see what Isak would do. This is Even’s homeland. Bad neighbourhoods, shitty apartments. This is his world. He has the upper hand. Doesn’t he? Isak stands up as well, and when he’s standing this close to Even, looking at him like this, he looks exactly like in his penthouse. Enchanted. Needy. A bit ashamed. Even isn’t feeling powerful at all. In two weeks Isak will be back above the city, while Even will still be here in the gutters.

“Is that why I’m here? Because I’m the one luxury item you can still have?”

“What?” Isak’s voice is high pitched and thin. It would a shriek if it wasn’t so quiet. The bottle catches Even’s eye again. Why does it have to be empty?

“All your other toys are out of your reach for two weeks, because Jonas says so. He can’t take me away.”

“Even please. You’re not -- it’s not like that.”

The more Even thinks about it, the more sense it makes. That’s why Isak wanted him here. That’s why he’s been touching Even bolder and bolder. He wants to play. He misses his toy.

“Really? What is it like, then?”

“I miss you! Not some plaything or whatever, I miss  _ you _ because I --” Isak stops speaking. Even arches his brow.

“Because?”

“Because I. I --”

“See? You can’t come up with anything. That just proves I’m right.”

“I love you.”

Okay.

That’s certainly something.


	61. Isak

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> recommended listening: Hozier - Take Me to Church

It’s remarkable how much can fit inside a second.

Isak has only ever confessed his love once, in a letter, that has been held against him with fair reason. He has only ever loved once, a boy he never should have. He has said the words out loud after that, spoken like a line, in pretence. In a fantasy. This time the characters are the same, but the play is a different one. This one is a tragedy. Maybe a farce. At best.

They all can fit inside a second. Kristian. Jonas. Even, in his apartment, inside the fort, in his bathroom, in his bed. The formless, nameless fondness of a teenager, the unbearable burn of first love, the dark, wicked, undeniable lust of the flesh. Has he only ever loved three times in his life, not once properly?

He doesn’t know love. But he can feel it. In just one second, it envelopes him completely. It stretches out the second, and fills it with memory of -- skin? The droplets on Kristian’s skin in the candlelight. The smooth inside of Jonas’ wrist he has once touched, like by accident. The abundance of Even’s skin, spread out for him.

God, it’s obvious. He doesn’t know love.

“I --”

Even doesn’t say anything. How long has he been not saying anything? It’s understandable, the words Isak just spoke are so big and heavy that there’s no room between them.

“Can I take that back?”

Can he swallow something that big?

Even is still looking at him. He hasn’t turned his head away. He hasn’t left. He raises his hand and touches Isak’s cheek.

“I’d rather you didn’t”, Even says. His voice is low. Isak can barely hear it over his own heart racing. Isak can feel the wetness of his tears only when they hit Even’s fingers, crossing the border between them. Washing it out.

“But I don’t know --”

Even takes Isak’s face in his hands.

“It’s okay”, Even whispers. Isak is shaking.

“If you don’t let go I will kiss you.”

Even doesn’t let go. Warmth is poured all over Isak’s body, from Even’s hands. From his mouth, on Isak’s mouth. His lips are so soft. They are skilled, but more than that, they are gentle. It feels like Even isn’t kissing Isak for money, but because he wants to.

“I missed you”, Isak mumbles between the kisses that follow each other like heartbeats. “I missed you so much. I’m so happy you’re here.”

Even’s lips leave Isak’s alone to give them space to speak. The only problem is, that as Even kisses the side of his neck, Isak is rendered speechless. Flesh, lust, burn. Droplets of water on bare skin, begging to be licked away. Isak is falling into Even’s arms, and Even catches him.

“Say it again”, Even whispers. His lips tickle on Isak’s ear. His breath feels hot. Isak squeezes his eyes shut.

“I can’t. What if it’s not true?”

The tip of Even’s tongue traces Isak’s pulse line. It sends ripples of pleasure all over Isak’s body. Absolutely everywhere.

“It’s true”, Even says. He sounds certain. “You love me. Now say it again.”

“Even --”

“Please.”

Isak opens his eyes. He can see Even’s hair. The curve of his neck. God, he has missed him.

“I love you.”

Even rewards him by slipping his fingers under his shirt, on his waist. It feels so good. Isak closes his eyes again, breathing through his mouth in soft sighs. He moves his leg, so his thigh brushes at Even’s fly, and he finds what he was looking for. Even wants him. It feels even better than how Isak is getting what he wants.

“You do”, Even says. It sounds like a chant. This room is turning into a place of worship, this is their ritual, Isak is the priest and Even his flock,  _ I love you _ over and over again, followed by  _ you do. _

Being undressed from these clothes feels different. It’s so much simpler to pull a hoodie over Isak’s head than it is to unbutton a white shirt. Even drops the hoodie on the floor behind Isak. He allows Isak to do the same to his hoodie. Their bare chest press together, their lips lock in another kiss. Isak runs his hands all over Even’s body. His arm brushes against fabric that’s not supposed to be there.

Isak pulls away from the kiss and takes Even’s hand. He pulls his arm out, to look at the bandages closer. The wound seems bad. Isak moves his fingers above it, careful to not touch it.

“What happened here?”

Even pulls his arm back and wraps it around Isak. The bandages disappear behind Isak’s back.

“Past mistakes”, Even says, placing his hand on Isak’s cheek. He strokes Isak’s bottom lip with his thumb. “I’d rather be making new ones instead of wallowing in mistakes already made.”

Isak almost laughs.

“Is this a mistake?”

Even tilts his head.

“Hard to say. Mistakes rarely feel like mistakes while they’re in progress.”

Isak nibbles at the tip of Even’s thumb. Even pushes it on Isak’s tongue. Isak wraps his lips around it and sucks on it, slowly. If this is a mistake, so be it. He’s going to make it, with great pleasure. Hearing Even’s needy sigh seals the deal. He has to do this, there is no other choice, not anymore.

They kiss again. Harder. Hungrier. The air is thick and heavy around them. They’re more floating than standing, carried by their passion. Isak touches the arch of Even’s lower back, along the spine, and Even’s skin is raised into goosebumps.

Even undoes Isak’s jeans and pulls them down with Isak’s underwear. Isak steps out of them, towards the bed. It’s a small bed, but it will do. They will fit into each other to save space. Isak breaks their kiss reluctantly, so he can lie down on the bed, ready for Even. He takes his socks off while Even undresses, and as Even slides on the bed between Isak’s legs Isak lets out a happy little sigh. They fit perfectly.

“You love me”, Even mumbles into the nest between Isak’s collarbones.

“I do”, Isak chants back. The liturgy has turned into a wow. Even’s hips press against his, and Isak can feel the hard, wonderful dick. It makes his mouth water and his thighs tremble. “I do.”

Even gets up on his knees. He pushes his thighs under Isak’s, raising Isak’s ass up from the bed. His dick is resting on Isak’s groin. The bandage around his arm makes him look tragic, or dangerous, or both, and either way it is really turning Isak on. Or maybe it’s just Even’s big hands moving up and down his thighs.

“Please, Even”, Isak begs. Even arches his brow and smiles.

“What? What do you want?”

Isak tries to sit up to bite Even’s sassy mouth, but he can’t. This position has him locked. He could get away from it if he wanted, and he knows Even would let him go if he asked, but he doesn’t want to. He doesn’t ask to be let go. He has another, more pressing request.

“I want you. I need you. Please.”

Even runs his fingertip along Isak’s hip bone. Isak almost whimpers. His lips move, his eyes are glued to Even.

“We’re not going to fuck now”, Even says. Isak hopes he doesn’t look too disappointed. It would be rude -- or maybe flattering? A bit of both?

“We’re not?” Isak whines, rocking his hips a bit. Even presses the ball of his palm on Isak’s hip to keep him still.

“No. Not today. But don’t worry, I will make this worth your while.”

Before Isak can ask, Even has wrapped his fingers around his dick. And his own. He’s holding both their dicks in his hand, and Isak can only stare at that hand and how big it is, how it wraps around them so easily, and that’s the hottest thing he has seen in a long time.

“Oh --”

Even grins.

“Yeah.”

Isak pushes his head back, gasping. Even moves his hand. It feels good. It feels close. Every touch sends a pulse of pleasure from Isak’s dick to everywhere in his body, forcing a little moan out of him. They’re being so naughty together. It feels naughty and dirty in the best of ways, having his ass up in the air, it’s like Even is dangling him from his dick. A ridiculous thought at any other time, but right now, in the middle of this, it’s arousing.

After a while Even lets go. At first Isak doesn’t like the change, but then Even slides down on the bed and his head ends up between Isak’s legs. His slick, warm mouth takes Isak’s dick in, and Isak loses his sense of time and place. All he knows is how good he is feeling, and how that feeling is all over him, and it’s not lust, it’s softer, warmer, it feels like home in a way, and how can that not be love?


	62. Even

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> suggested listening: Kemopetrol - Child Is My Name

Mikael is home when Even returns. He comes to the door like a loyal dog, and the worry written all over his face looks sickening. Even can taste something bitter at the back of his throat. He can’t do this. He must do this.

“Evy?” Mikael is speaking softly. His voice oozes sugar, the blind need to please, Even could kick him and he would return to lick Even’s feet. “Where have you been?”

Even pushes past Mikael to go to his room. He doesn’t bother taking his shoes off. He’s not going to stick around. Mikael notices it, and hurries after him.

“Could you please take your shoes off?”

“Nah, I’m good”, Even says, opening his closet. He grabs everything that’s clean and throws it on his bed.

“Eskild is coming home soon. He’d like to talk with you face to face.”

“He can facetime me if it’s that important.” Even isn’t looking at Mikael. Mikael keeps trying to make him, to push himself into Even’s line of vision. Fool. Like he doesn’t know better.

“Even please. You’ve still barely there. You need your routines. You can’t just decide to flip your life upside down and -- where the hell are you even going?”

Even takes out a gym bag and places it on the bed next to his clothes. He doesn’t fold the clothes, simply shoves them inside. The zipper catches on the side of his wrist, leaving a white strand on the dry skin. Even stops to look at it. He didn’t seem to break skin, just scratch it. Mikael takes advantage of the pause and dives under Even’s arm. He sits down on the bag.

“Are you listening?”

Even looks down at Mikael’s knees. He’s getting hot in his winter jacket, he just wants to get his things and leave. He doesn’t need his routines, he needs a fucking break.

“Please move.”

“Not before you talk to me! Look at me!”

Even turns his eyes up to Mik’s eyes. He expected to feel more. Anger, contempt, regret -- anything. He’s got nothing. Blank. Numb. He’s on mission mode, performing for a goal, and Mikael is simply an obstacle in his way.

“Well?”

Mikael raises his hands, grabs Even’s face between them and stands up. His fingers feel so thin. Have his hands always been this small? Have they always been shaking this much?

“Even, please. Don’t leave. We need to get you better again.”

Even looks at Mikael in silence. Deep in his eyes. He leans closer to him, tilting his head the slightest bit, cracks his lips open. He can see the decision be made in Mikael’s eyes, the moment he agrees to take one for the team. Mikael closes his eyes, tilts his head, opens his mouth to receive Even’s. Even’s lips brush at his cheek as Even reaches around him to take his bag from the bed.

Mikael deflates. He collapses sitting down on the bed, his hands limp in his lap. His bottom lip is quivering.

“Even, we care about you. Can you at least tell me where you are going?”

Even kind of wants to tell Mikael. That he’s going to Isak Valtersen, the man who can elevate him from this shitty life. That Even couldn’t do it for Mik, but Isak can do it for him, and this time he is going to take the offer.

“I have a place. I’m safe there, and I don’t have to deal with us. To be honest, that’s a fucking huge bonus.”

Mikael pulls his legs up against his chest and hugs them.

“What do you mean by dealing with us?”

Even takes his spare pillow, takes the pillow out and pushes the pillow case with his notebook and other necessities into the bag.

“You know what I mean, Mik. You would have kissed me just now.”

Mikael looks at Even from behind his knees.

“And?”

“Well, did you want to kiss me? Is that something you have been longing to do? Would kissing me make you happy?”

Mikael bites on his lip. Even can hear the cogs turn in his head. He scoffs.

“Seriously, Mik, stop trying to come up with what I want to hear and answer the fucking question. I’m okay. You’re not going to break me with the truth.”

“No”, Mikael finally says, in a thin whisper. “I don’t think it would.”

“And this is the exact kind of bullshit I need a break from. You can’t be honest with me, you can’t treat me with respect, because of all the things you’ve gone through with me. For me. It stops now, before it destroys one or both of us.”

Even has seen what it has done to Jonas and Isak. Not stopping on time. He’s not going to let that happen to him and Mikael, and that means that he has to step away. For now. Maybe forever, who knows.

The box from under the bed gets emptied into the bag. He could remove the badly folded sheets of warnings and instructions, but he doesn’t bother. He’s still hot in his outwear clothes. He still needs to get out of here before Mikael can convince him to stay. Even takes his charger and puts it in the bag. His pencil case. His Good notebook. Now all he needs is his stuff from the bathroom and he’ll be good to go.

“You really are leaving, aren’t you?”

“Yes. It’s time. We’ve been living together since we left home. We need time apart.”

“Me and Eskild can’t afford this apartment”, Mikael says. His voice sounds distant. He’s forcing himself into action mode. Such a good boy.

“I’ll keep paying my part of the rent for now. If you find someone else to move in, feel free to let them. I can find some other place to live if need be.”

Mikael’s expression shatters. Bye bye, action mode.

“Even you can’t make big decisions right now. It’s not safe.”

“I’m not making big decisions, I’m trying to live my life.”

“You’re trying to run away from your life”, Mikael says, quietly but not defeated. “I get it, you need distance, and maybe I do as well, but you can’t just run off and pretend I don’t exist anymore.”

_ Watch me. _

“I’m just taking a break.”

“A break isn’t the same as the end”, Mikael says, but not in a hopeful tone. He’s telling Even the difference, because he thinks Even doesn’t already know it.

“I know.”

Even drags the now heavy bag with him to the bathroom. Mikael follows him there. Of course he does.

“How can I know you’re okay?” Uh-huh. There it is. Mikael forgot to talk about  _ we _ and confessed the  _ I. _ Even knows he has been talking about himself the whole  time, no matter how many times he has mentioned Eskild.

“You can’t. I’m not inclined to report to you in any way.”

“Even, please! I need something! You can’t just disappear and leave me with nothing!”

_ Fucking watch me. _

“I don’t want to see you in a while. I don’t want to talk to you. I don’t want to text you. I don’t have a carrier pigeon.”

“Can I text you?”

Even sighs.

“I just told you I don’t want to text you.”

“I know, I know, but. Can you not block my number and let me text you anyway? You don’t have to answer anything, but. If I see you saw my message I’ll know you’re at least alive.”

Well. Maybe Isak could open the messages for him. Maybe Mik deserves that much. An automatic response. For old time’s sake.

“Fine. I won’t block you. But call me just once and I will.”

“I won’t. Promise. I won’t bother you. Just one text every night, that’s it.”

Even pulls the zipper of the bag closed. He’s ready to go. He doesn’t look at Mikael anymore, he can’t.

“There. I’m going to go now.”

“Wait. Please.” Mikael looks at him, hesitating, takes a couple of steps back, and looks at him again, like to make sure Even would wait. He doesn’t promise to. When Mikael runs into his own room Even starts moving to the door of the apartment.

He places his hand slowly on the handle.

He turns it.

“I found it!” Mikael runs to him, and Even stops moving his hand right at the brink of pushing the door open. Mikael is handing something small over to him. “Take it. For good luck.”

Even looks at the half of a heart on a thin chain. He remembers giving it to Mikael for his fifteenth birthday. He remembers having lost his half somewhere along the years. He twists his mouth a bit.

“Mikael, I don’t think --”

“Just shove it somewhere and forget about it. And if you find it, think about me for a moment. I mean, if you don’t ever come back, at least there is a chance you will -- someday -- think of me even once.”

Even takes Mikael’s free hand and brings it around the pendant. He wraps Mikael’s fingers into a fist, with the broken heart inside it.

“I will come back.”

Mikael shakes his head, barely.

“I don’t think you will.”

Even lets go of Mikael’s hand to touch his cheek. He forces himself to look into Mikael’s eyes.

“I will. Take care of yourself. Go to your classes and pass them.”

“Even, I --”

“Bye, Mik.”

Even pulls his hand away and pushes the door open. As he walks down the stairs, all he can hear is the echo of his own steps.


	63. Isak

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: cutting, blood
> 
> (these warnings feel a bit like false advertising at times, but this one can be a bit intense)

Isak is sitting on the couch with his money spread out in front of him, trying to calculate. He knows how much he has - not much - and he has an idea of how much he should have since he’s unemployed now - not not much - but working out the exact amount is a bit of a bitch. He knows he’s supposed to be getting some kind of benefit, and that the state might help out him with his rent too, but it’s really hard to work out the exact amounts.

Whatever the amount, he won’t be able to support Even.

That bothers him. Like, a lot.

He knows that Even doesn’t want to party, but what if he wants to, anyway? Isak can’t afford the entrance to a club, nor a drink. All he has to offer for two weeks is tea and instant noodles. Maybe oatmeal and eggs on the weekend. That’s really not what he’s used to. He has no idea how to keep Even entertained and interested with that little.

Fuck, Even’s going to leave before the end of the week, isn’t he?

Isak gathers the money in his hand. It all fits inside his fist, so easily, there’s so little of it. He puts it in his wallet and stands up to take the wallet to his bag. The mug on the window catches his eye. That’s all he’s going to have left of Even soon. If he’s lucky enough that Even bothers coming back here at all.

Like, why would he come back?

When Even was here, his skin stuck on Isak’s skin, it was easy to believe in them. In love. Now that Isak is alone in this hellhole he doesn’t know anymore. He walks to the window and takes the mug in his hand. He holds out his palm and pours the blade on it. The drop of Even’s blood is beautiful, red against the metal. Past mistakes.

It feels so light and thin between his fingertips. And sharp. The whole object is an edge that cuts the thick air around Isak, making it fall in chunks at his feet, unable to reach his lungs. He can’t breathe. He can’t think. He is filled with thick, sweet liquid, crimson red and sickening in taste. It’s not blood in his veins anymore, it’s grenadine.

He wants to taste it. That’s all the thought he really puts into this. He wants to taste his grenadine blood. The blade feels like nothing in his fingers, and it’s so sharp he doesn’t really feel the cut before he sees the red ooze out of it. It stings. Not too bad. There is blood, but not too much. He has cut his arm, on the same place where he saw Even has been cut. Isak brings his wound on his lips.

It tastes like metal. It tastes like pain. It tastes like lonely.

Isak looks at the blade. It has their blood on it now. Both of them, not just Even’s, and if that’s the only connection he’s going to get with Even anymore so be it. Isak takes the blade to the bathroom and puts it on the edge of the sink to wait while he inspects and cleans his cut. It’s not big. It’s shallow. All he needs is a band-aid and he’s good to go. After some rummaging he finds one and puts it on his arm. It’s stopped hurting already. Isak makes a promise to himself, standing there in the flat light of the bathroom, avoiding his image in the mirror.

If Even doesn’t come back, he’ll cut deeper. He’ll cut so deep it will leave a scar.

It doesn’t feel completely fair to put a decision like that on Even, though. He has no claim over Even. Him loving Even doesn’t mean Even owes him anything. It’s not fair, but it is the truth, so Isak looks at the mirror and erases his previous promise.

He rips the band-aid off. It hurts basically more than the cut, and that’s not right. It’s not enough. Isak takes the blade again and brings it on his arm, in the slit on his flesh. He takes a deep breath. He has to be careful to not put his life at risk, or cut anything important. He’s holding his arm above the sink. He doesn’t want to be on his hands and knees, trying to scrub blood off the grouts.

Blood splattering all over the walls, in bursts of a pulse, so rich and so bright.

A bottle of grenadine shattering on the floor, the crimson syrup glimmering on shards of glass.

Even’s lips stained with red.

Lip prints all over Isak’s chest.

His back.

The blade makes a little clinking sound as it falls in the sink, snapping Isak out of his thoughts. He looks at his arm. Only a scratch there, not probably even needing another band-aid. He looks at the mirror. His eyes are dark and wild, his face is pale and clammy.

“What the fuck?” Isak whispers to himself. He doesn’t know the answer.

He doesn’t know anything.

Even has been gone for less than an hour, and he’s already lost in himself.

_ This time he won’t make it. _

It takes less than fifteen minutes for Magnus to arrive. He’s knocking on Isak’s door, and when Isak goes get it, he makes sure that his arm is visible. He needs to see if it’s noticeable. He needs to be seen. He is being ridiculous, it’s day two of not having all the money in the world and he’s a wreck.

“Can I hug you?” Magnus asks. He looks so agitated Isak doesn’t have the heart to decline. He nods, barely, but Magnus sees it anyway. He wraps his arms tightly around Isak and just hugs him, for what feels like forever. It’s a powerful hug, it gives Isak strength to breathe normally again. In. Out. In. Out. It’s okay. It will be okay.

When they step back Isak is feeling significantly better. He’s not alone anymore. Magnus is here, and Magnus takes his wrist and pulls his arm out to take a look at it.

“What have you done?”

Isak shakes his head. He wanted Magnus to notice, but now he doesn’t want to tell him anything. It’s. It feels to private. If he told about himself he would have to tell about Even, and that wouldn’t be right.

“Nothing. Yet. That’s why I called you. I didn’t expect you to get here so fast.”

“Hey, if you had heard your own voice you would have run a couple of not-quite-green-anymore lights yourself. I was half convinced I’d walk into --” Magnus stops talking, shaking his head. “Anyway. I hurried.”

“I’m. I’m glad you did. I mean, I’m okay, I’m fine, but. I don’t know.” Isak sighs. He wraps his arms around himself, and a second later Magnus is hugging him again.

“It’s cool. I have sandwiches and a flask of coffee. Would you share them with me?”

Now that Magnus mentions it, Isak is kind of hungry. He ate the leftover pizza with Even before Even left, and his cupboards are probably empty.

“I can’t eat your sandwiches”, Isak tries, for the sake of trying. As he expected, Magnus is having none of that.

“Are you telling me my wife makes bad sandwiches?”

Isak laughs. He can’t help it. It feels completely inappropriate to laugh in the midst of his self destruction - or a pathetic attempt of one - but he laughs.

“Of course not. She makes the best sandwiches known to man.”

“Damn right she does. Come on.”

Magnus drags Isak to the couch with him. They sit down, and Magnus unwraps his sandwiches. They smell delicious, and there are two of them, and Magnus gives the other one to Isak. He pours the cap of the thermos bottle full of coffee for Isak and sips directly from the bottle himself.

“You’re in for a treat. She roasted the chicken herself last night. Leftover sandwiches are the best, aren’t they?”

Isak can’t tell. He’s never had leftovers in his life, before the slice of cold pizza he ate today. But when he bites into the sandwich, he’s ready to state that Magnus is absolutely right. It’s really delicious. The coffee is tasty and the sandwich is big, and by the time Isak has finished it he’s already laughing and joking with -- dare he say it?

With his friend.


	64. Even

The strap of the bag is digging into Even’s shoulder. It’s good, it keeps him grounded and stops him floating away. He’s feeling so light, he needs an anchor. The weight of Mikael has been lifted off. It should feel worse than it is feeling, but there is just so much shit to be dragged around with all the good that now Even is simply relieved to be rid of it. Maybe he is a traitor, but at least he’s free.

Mikael will be better off without them, as well. He’s probably texting to that guy right now, asking for a shoulder to cry on or a celebratory make-out session. Or both. Even is feeling like both, to be honest. A little cry first, a lot of making out after. He has a twelve-pack of condoms in his bag. He is not looking forward to explaining Isak that he had an unprotected threesome with guys he knows nothing about, and he’s sort of terrified of Isak understanding that is the reason he didn’t want to fuck earlier.

But he is really, really looking forward to seeing Isak again.

Even takes out his phone and sends Isak a message, telling him he’s coming over and asking if he should bring something from the store in addition to instant cappuccino. He almost drops his phone when it starts ringing instead of buzzing for a message. Who the fuck calls people these days?

“Hey babe”, Even says in the phone, just to try it out. Isak is stunned silent by it, and when he finally speaks Even can hear the smile in his voice.

“Hi. I tried writing you a message but that didn’t work out.”

“I can’t imagine that scenario, really. Did you injure your both thumbs or something?”

Isak chuckles. He sounds embarrassed. Even readjusts the strap of his bag and really, really misses the smell of Isak’s hair right now.

“No, I just. I don’t know how to say it so it doesn’t sound stupid. I need your help.”

“Oh, babe, I’m the master of stupid. Did you mean to call someone else?”

Isak chuckles again. There is a little, fond silence, just listening to each other smile in the phone.

“I have no food in the house. I have very little money and no idea what anything costs.”

If Even didn’t just leave his own best friend slash complicated love-ish interest, he might be tempted to remind Isak that he has seventeen billion kroner and no need to know the cost of anything. But he doesn’t say it. Isak is breaking up with Jonas, and it’s a process Even does not wish to hinder.

“It’s okay. I should have some money. I’ll stop by the cash machine and see what I can afford to treat you.”

“But --” Isak is squirming. Even can hear it. He’s still smiling.

“No buts. You have treated me, it’s my turn now.”

“I have paid you.” Isak’s words are followed by shocked silence. Even readjusts the strap. His mouth is a tight line, he’s swallowing things that make him feel heavier again. Isak sighs. It’s a heartbreaking sound.

“I suppose I can’t take that back, either.”

“Just never say it again. Please.”

Isak is quiet for a long time.

“Fuck, sorry. Yes. I kept nodding here.”

Even hums. Kind of soft.

“I’ll be there in twenty minutes. Can’t wait.”

“Me neither.”

Silence. Without smiles this time, but with peace.

“My stop is coming up”, Even says.

“Oh, right. Sorry.”

“It’s okay. I’ll see you soon.”

“Okay. I love you.”

Even makes sure to smile now. It’s not even hard.

“Bye.”

Even slips his phone in his pocket and gets off the tram. The cash machine is in the wall by the grocery store’s door. He pushes his card in and punches his pin code on the keypad. He readjusts the strap and checks his balance.

He checks it again.

Eight grand. A bit over eight grand. He remembers wondering, briefly, how much booze he could buy for the party without his card being declined. He remembers the days he spent with Isak Valtersen, the multi-billionaire, and how they ended abruptly, and Isak Valtersen apparently was pissed off and petty enough to dig out Even’s bank details.

Isak has paid him ten grand and forgotten all about it.

The machine beeps and pushes Even’s card out. Even takes it and puts it back in his wallet. He walks to the grocery store and grabs a basket. Isak’s place doesn’t have an actual kitchen, and he doesn’t really know how to cook anything but excellent eggs for breakfast, but maybe there’s something here they can heat up in the microwave. It’s not like they can’t afford it.

No. It will have to be cheap. Even can go and eat fucking foie gras on his own if he so wishes, but Isak will not be reminded of this money. Even asked for it himself. To not mention it anymore, the fact that they are here because Isak has paid Even for sex. There is no point in bringing it up.

He does splurge on a 24-pack of condoms, though. He doesn’t even blush when he pays for them and packs them in the plastic bag with the store logo on it.

Even places the same bag on the floor so he can wrap his arms around Isak, right there at the front door. He buries his face in Isak’s hair and takes a couple of deep breaths. He missed this. He missed Isak. He’s been gone for hours, not longer, but those were some tough hours. Now, here with Isak in his arms, he can rest for a bit. Rest and forget.

“Even?” Isak asks. Even hums, in a question. “I want to kiss you, but I can’t.”

Even’s heart sinks. What happened to the love? Has it dissolved this fast? Why does the thought of losing it hurt this much?

“Why not?”

“You are pressing me against you too tightly?”

“Oh”, Even laughs. He is feeling light again. He lets go of Isak and takes the gym bag off his shoulder as well. Closes the door. Isak pushes his back against it and kisses him.

His lips are so tasty. Kissing him is so nice. He seems so grateful for it. Appreciative. He wants this so much, desperately, and deep down inside, in his core, Even is a pleaser. And Isak is easy to please. Effortless. One wouldn’t expect that of a billionaire.

“Better?” Even hums on Isak’s lips as the kiss finally shows signs of ending. Isak giggles.

“Much better.” Isak pushes the grocery bag lightly with his foot. “This seems heavy.”

“Must be all the condoms”, Even slips before he can stop himself. Isak made him relax too much. He’s off his guard.

“Condoms?” Isak asks, puzzled and blushing. “Fuck, I’ve forgotten about condoms. Should I get tested?”

Even’s knees feel a bit shaky. Isak asks it so carelessly. Like it doesn’t indicate that Even is an unreliable, irresponsible slut. Like it doesn’t mean that Even is easy and stupid and possibly venomous.

“I -- I think I should, at least. I’ve. I haven’t been well. Lately.”

Isak kisses him again. The kiss has a hint of salt in it, probably from Even himself. He doesn’t know, he’s too emotional to know if he’s crying or not. Isak kisses him three times over before he pulls back with a gentle smile on his lips.

“I hope you bought the economy pack.”


	65. Isak

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you know, just put that Hozier on again if you feel like it

Even is here.

Even is here.

_ Even is here. _

Isak can’t stop kissing him. He doesn’t want to stop kissing him, and thank God, he doesn’t have to, either. He can lean on Even who is leaning on the door and kiss him, over and over again, barely able to believe Even is actually here. But he is. He is. Isak can see him, taste him, hear him, smell him, feel him. He is here.

Isak should tell him that. Even should know that Isak thought he wouldn’t come back. But Isak is selfish. He doesn’t want to say anything right now that would disrupt this. He needs this. He needs Even, naked, in the bed, inside him, he needs it immediately and so much.

They don’t need the condoms. Isak is wealthy enough to have learned that nothing can wound him. Catching a disease isn’t something that happens to him. It doesn’t occur to him unless he really stops to think about it, and now he doesn’t stop. He doesn’t care. All he cares about is Even, who is here.

“Take me”, Isak sighs. “Please?”

Is it too soon? Even has satisfied him once already today, but Isak is so needy. Like it never happened. Need and want are throbbing inside him, begging for Even, who might say no, and that is a terrifying possibility. Sure, Even brought condoms, but that doesn’t mean he wants to use them right now.

What if Even thinks Isak thinks he’s a slut?

Well. He is a prostitute. Was. That’s a bit different to a slut, but Isak is pretty sure that calling Even a whore would go exactly as well as calling him a slut. And it’s not like Isak cares, and Even is retired now, and he is  _ here _ because he came back to Isak, he came back.

Even doesn’t say anything. Instead, he pulls Isak’s hoodie off and throws it away. He grabs Isak’s bare shoulders, turns him around and shoves him gently against the door. Even flashes Isak a little grin, then he drops on his knees on the floor. Isak gasps. Oh, yes, oh God yes.

Isak pushes his shaky fingers into Even’s hair. He isn’t making Even do anything, just wants to feel his hair, to touch it, God it’s so soft, so light. What Even is taking out of Isak’s pants is neither. His dick is so hard, it feels so heavy, and Even smiles warmly at it, like at a dear friend.

Even looks up at him with the same smile. Isak can almost feel his gaze travel up his body, over the stomach and the chest, past his collarbones, his mouth, to his eyes that are looking back with bewilderment. Even keeps his eyes locked on Isak’s, as he unzips the gym bag he brought with him, reaches inside and takes out a pack of condoms. Isak can tell it’s a big packet, and he blushes at how pleased that fact makes him.

It’s actually remarkable, how easily Even takes out a condom and unwraps it from the tiny packet. With one hand, without even looking. He is looking at Isak, and his other hand is stroking at Isak’s dick slowly. So slowly, torturing, slowly, and even that is making Isak pant and squirm.

He almost tells Even to not bother. Then he remembers that Even isn’t probably doing this just for him. He’s doing it for himself, too. Taking care of himself, being healthier. That’s a good thing. Besides, Isak doesn’t find it within himself to argue the fact that Even is putting the condom on him with his mouth.

That is definitely a remarkable talent. Isak laughs a little, out of breath.

“Wow”, he gasps. Even pulls back and smirks at him.

“One of my many oral talents.”

“Please, don’t let me stop you from displaying the rest of them.”

Even makes sure the condom is properly in place with his fingers. He opens his mouth, leans over Isak’s dick and wraps his lips tightly around it. Isak slides into his mouth smoothly, and he is actually pleased he has the condom on now because he might otherwise simply explode just from that. He almost does, anyway.

“Ohhhhh Even --” Isak moans, pushing his fingers deeper into Even’s hair. This time he is moving Even’s head, too, guiding it lower, to take him in more. Even does. He takes Isak all the way in until Isak’s tip hits the back of his mouth, and Isak’s toes curl up to grip the floor. Oh God. Oh Even. They are the same right now.

Even moves his head back and forth, rubbing on Isak’s dick with his tongue. Isak is kind of surprised at how wet it feels. He can’t feel the actual wetness, but he can feel how slick Even’s mouth is, how much his mouth is watering from having Isak’s dick in it. Isak curls his fingers into fistfuls of Even’s hair and moans louder. People walking outside the apartment probably can hear him. It doesn’t matter.

What matters is that Isak really, really, really needs Even inside him. Now. It’s just so difficult to ask Even to stop what he is doing now, because it feels so good and looks really great. Isak pulls Even’s head back from his hair, tilting his face, so he can see how his dick sinks into it over and over again. Even’s beautiful, full lips, his lovely mouth, devouring him. Hungry for him. Starving.

“Fuck”, Isak gasps, his hips bucking by themselves. “Fuck me. Fuck me!”

Even pulls back, licking his lips. He looks up at Isak and strokes at Isak’s dick with his hand again.

“Only if you promise to fuck me after that”, Even says, his voice low and husky. Isak’s toes curl up again. His thighs tense up. He barely manages to keep himself from coming.

“Yes”, Isak whimpers. “I promise. Please!”

After all, that’s not an unreasonable request by any means. Unless Even drains him completely on purpose. In that case Isak can use his fingers instead, right? Right. He might not be that good at it, but maybe Even would be willing to teach him.

Even kisses the tip of Isak’s hip bone and grabs Isak’s undone pants. He pulls them down, and Isak’s socks too, and Isak steps out of them completely naked apart from the condom. He’s getting used to it already. It feels responsible, and healthy, and like he’s protecting not only himself but Even too, and he likes the feeling.

Isak’s legs are shaking as he walks to the bed. He keeps looking at Even over his shoulder, and every time he looks Even has less clothes on.

Even slides on the bed next to Isak. They kiss, briefly, impatient but with much delight. They want something else than kisses right now, it’s a pressing urge, a deep need. Mmh, deep. Even has brought lube with him too, thank God, he presses his body against Isak with their legs altering, and slips his hand between them, between Isak’s legs, and Isak moves and turns his other leg to the side to make room, and finally, fucking finally Even is inside him. It’s only his finger, but it’s Even, and it’s perfect.

Even is here.

It’s perfect.

Even pushes his finger deeper inside. Isak feels his body give in to the finger, to accept it and embrace it, and he looks into Even’s eyes with his lips cracked open and his breath caught in his chest. As Even bends his finger Isak closes his eyes, and pushes his now liberated sigh out as a hungry moan. He’s trying to take mental notes of what Even is doing, but all of them say only  _ wonderful, incredible things _ and that’s kind of useless, so he stops making them, he stops thinking altogether, and just feels.

And loves.

Oh God he loves Even.

“Hurry”, Isak pleads. He needs Even’s dick inside him, not just his finger, no matter how good it feels. It’s not enough, and as Even gives him another finger Isak is almost surprised by how quickly that’s not enough, either. “Please!”

Even sits up on his heels. He takes a condom and puts it on, slowly and carefully. Isak almost tells him to leave it again, but he doesn’t. He waits. He’s squirming, he’s desperate, his body is open and welcoming. Even lathers the lube all over his dick, generously, with a sexy little smirk on his lips.

“You look hot when you’re desperate”, he says. Isak groans.

“Stop torturing me and fuck me already!”

Even cocks his head, his brow arched.

“Is that an order?”

“No”, Isak whines. “I’m begging you.”

Even grins again.

“Yes. Yes you are. It’s hot.”

“You already said that. Just take me!”

Even moves. He settles between Isak’s legs and pushes a pillow under Isak’s hips. As he finally, oh God,  _ finally _ presses inside Isak moans louder than before, louder than ever. It’s Even. He’s inside Isak, further and further inside, until their hips touch and Isak opens his eyes, forgetting when he closed them.

“I love you”, Isak whispers, touching Even’s cheek. Even turns his face and kisses the inside of Isak’s wrist.

Then he moves. He pulls out slowly, to push back inside again, faster, then faster again, pulling a filthy, dirty moan out of Isak with each delicious thrust. The headboard is banging in the wall. This bed is cheap and bad, it’s squeaking too, or maybe it’s Isak himself, whining and moaning and clawing at Even’s back with his spread out fingers, like he can’t touch Even enough, and it’s true.

He can never get enough. But they can try. They can try.


	66. Even

Finally Isak falls asleep. Even lies very still for a while more, watching Isak. His relaxed face, that’s still - or maybe more so - looking exhausted. Isak is definitely out of it, but is he resting? Even has no idea. All he has to do is look around to be reminded of the stress Isak must be under right now.

This is no penthouse.

It doesn’t matter. Money may be everything that matters, but right now Even is so fucking tired of it. He needs a break. From Mikael, Eskild, all the bullshit that his life has turned into. Some me-time. If Isak was still in his penthouse, Even wouldn’t be in bed next to him. That apartment, no matter how luxurious, isn’t good for him right now.

Not many things he usually loves are.

Even is grateful that Isak is here now, in this charade, because he’s pretty sure he couldn’t be without sex as well. Isak is the only person in his life who he has had sex with more than just once or twice, and for some weird chance Isak wants to keep having it.

Heh. Funny how Isak calls it love, and Even calls it chance.

But lying here, in his post orgasmic haze, still almost feeling Isak’s dick inside him, it’s kind of hard to state that love is bullshit and really believe in it. He can see the effect it has on Isak. The change. The more comfortable Isak is getting with the idea of loving him, loving a man, a  _ madman _ of all possible men, a rentboy -- the brighter he gets. It’s the best way Even can think of to describe what is happening in Isak. He is starting to shine.

It feels good to see some light for a change.

There is so little light inside him anymore. A little glimmer, a dying star, one that died a million years ago but is so far away that it looks like it’s still alive, barely, flickering. Yes. That’s a good word here. Flickering. Even is flickering. The label he finally has, the fact of actually having one, feels. It feels like a relief. It’s making him smile, against all reason.

Even turns his face slowly to look at Isak again. Still no rest. Some stars get brighter before they burn out, Even remembers. There was a time he was really into astronomy, he stayed up all night stargazing, in the middle of the fucking city, staring into the black sky until his neck cramped up. He made a semi-serious plot to cut the power of the city, or at least couple of blocks, just so people could look up and see the infinite beauty of starlight.

He was lucky Mikael had stopped him from putting that plan into action. He wouldn’t have made it across the power plant’s yard before getting arrested.

Annnnd about now is a perfect time to stop thinking about Mikael. He doesn’t exist in this place. All there is here is Isak and Even, two stars on their final hour. They have everything they need. Company. Sex. Love, perhaps enough for both of them. Plenty of condoms, and food that will last them a few days and. Isak groans quietly as Even jumps out of the bed, waking him up. There is a question in that groan.

“I forgot to put the food in the fridge”, Even says. There was no need for him to dash up like that. He should have stopped to think for half a fucking second. Isak has trouble sleeping, he knows it. He’s standing in the middle of the floor with the grocery bag in his hand, flickering.

Isak yawns and rubs his eyes.

“Mmh. How long did I sleep?”

“I’m not sure”, Even says. It’s true. The concept of time has been a bit difficult for him lately. “Not long. Definitely not longer than half an hour. I think.”

Isak sighs. Even tries to think he doesn’t know how that sigh feels inside him, how it feels like guilt.

“Do you have something to help you sleep?” Even asks. Isak rolls over on his back and sighs again.

“No. I was afraid to have so many sedatives in the house so I threw them away. It wasn’t like I could have been drinking or sniffing with them anyway.”

Even looks at his bag. He hesitates, but only for a moment.

“Do you want something?”

“Yes. Put the food in the fridge, come here and kiss me.”

Even smiles, barely. Flickering.

“Are you saying I’m some kind of an anti-prince? My kisses put people asleep instead of waking them up?”

Isak raises himself up, leaning on his elbows.

“Well, at least you woke up me with your kiss. Ever since our first kiss I’ve been heading towards -- I don’t know what, I’m not there yet. But I feel awakened.”

Even nods slowly. The way Isak is looking at him is giving him strength. It might be stolen light, but it is light, and it feels warm.

“I’ll just put these away. I’ll be right there.”

As soon as the food is in the fridge Even turns to return to the bed. Isak has stood up. Even looks at him, confused but not insecure, and when Isak walks into the bathroom the confusion dissolves as well. While Isak is in there Even finds his phone to check the time.

Oh. It’s night already. He should be getting some sleep, too. It shouldn’t be too hard, his medication knocks him out in fifteen minutes. It’s just that it makes him feel kind of guilty. He’d be asleep, while Isak would be awake, only because he couldn’t control his impulse and woke Isak up.

Isak flushes the toilet and washes his hands. Even stares at his bag, like he could will the pills to have a different effect on him. He even considers, briefly, that he wouldn’t take them at all, but that’s really not an option and he knows it. He has a future scar on his arm to prove it. Hopefully to remind him, as well.

“What time is it?” Isak asks, emerging from the bathroom.

“A bit past midnight”, Even says. He licks his lips quickly. “I should take my evening meds.”

Isak nods. There’s a tiny proud smile on his lips. Light.

“I hope you know that you telling me that will mean I will make you take them, if necessary.”

Even nods. He knows. He rubs the back of his neck.

“It will make me fall asleep.”

“In that case I suggest you go to the bathroom, take your pills and come to bed.”

“Are you sure you don’t want any?”

Isak shakes his head.

“I’m fine. I just want to go to bed with you, if that’s okay.”

Even has no objections. So, he does like Isak instructed him to. Bathroom. Pills. Lights out. Bed. When he lies down Isak curls up against him immediately. His body is warm. Radiating. Even hasn’t thought about astronomy in ages, why is it coming back now? Either his brain is trying to tell him something, or it’s simply scrambled. Could be both.

Isak turns Even’s face gently and kisses him. Even kisses him back, slowly, drowsily. The pills have barely hit his stomach, they’re not kicking in yet, but in the dark, against Isak’s warmth, it’s easy to start slipping into the gentle arms of sleep.


	67. Isak

Even was right. In less than fifteen minutes he is knocked out. He is breathing slowly and steadily, almost heavily, in deep relaxation that Isak can only envy -- but not enough to try and get something like that for himself. There is a deeper satisfaction here to be reached than simple slumber.

He can watch Even sleep.

His hair is a mess. His eyelashes are almost touching his skin. His mouth looks so soft with his lips relaxed like this. Isak really wants to kiss those lips, to taste them one more time, in his insatiable desire for everything that’s Even, but he doesn’t. He lets Even sleep. Even can use it just as much as he could himself.

It’s not too bad yet. He slept last night. He is tired, but he can manage. Isak rubs his cheek on his lumpy pillow and sighs without a sound. It’s almost dark in the room, but he can see Even clearly. Maybe half of it is from memory. He has been looking at that face a lot. That beautiful face.

This time looking at someone sleeping next to him doesn’t make him feel guilty. He has done this before, lying in a huge bed almost but not quite next to Jonas, watching Jonas sleep. He remembers the longing, the desire, and most of all, the terror. He was terrified that Jonas would wake up and notice he was looking, that he was hard, and at the same time he wished with all his heart that the same exact thing would happen. He had such elaborate fantasies, about how Jonas would roll over in his sleep, ending up against Isak’s body, and be startled awake, and open his eyes, with a little wrinkle between his brows as his thigh would have rubbed against Isak’s erection, Jonas’ expression a bit sleepy and a bit confused, and then he would have kissed Isak.

God, he was such a child. He really thought that Jonas would kiss him. He knew it wasn’t going to happen, but that didn’t matter -- he ignored the reality and lived in his fantasy instead. Thinking about it now makes Isak cringe. Jonas would have kicked his ass. He would have been so angry with Isak. Or he would have done nothing at all. That would have been worse, somehow. That Jonas would have pulled his leg away, rolled back over to his side and fallen asleep again, completely dismissing the best and the worst thing that had ever happened to Isak, ever.

Isak closes his eyes for a moment. He takes the image of Jonas and tucks it away carefully, replacing it with the image of Even. He opens his eyes again and sees the reality matches his thoughts, and that brings him peace.

It’s such a weird concept. That loving a man could bring him peace. All those years loving Jonas were everything but peace. Isak doesn’t want to, but he has to wonder, if that’s what he really is in love with -- not with Even, but with the simplicity of loving him.

Oh, right. There is nothing simple in loving Even. Not outside this apartment, this two week slot of abandon, when he is just a nobody, and certainly not himself. It’s not simple for Isak Valtersen to love Even, but for this man, who is lying in this bed beside that beautiful person, it is. The only problem is that Isak will have to stop being this man, eventually.

But that’s later. This is now. And now Isak is able to love Even effortlessly, and he does so, without thinking, without strain. Because right now it is simple.

Isak lies awake all night, watching and loving Even. Hours fly by without him noticing it, his arm falls asleep and he shifts his position as carefully as he can, scared that he will wake Even up, but he doesn’t, he just bites his teeth together and deals with the burning pain of returning blood flow until it passes, just like the night does, and then it’s morning. Even moves. Isak holds his breath.

Even moves again. He frowns, he pouts, he rubs his eyes and opens them. It’s still dark, to Isak’s disappointment. He misses the blue in Even’s eyes, but can’t see it now. Even yawns.

“What time is it?”

“I don’t know”, Isak whispers, still not ready to let go of Even’s sleep yet. He doesn’t want to disturb it. “Should I find out?”

Even yawns again.

“Nah, I have to go to the bathroom. I’ll check it myself on the way.”

Even crawls out of the bed. Isak kind of forgot Even is naked, and seeing his body completely like this, suddenly unveiled in front of his eyes, catches Isak by surprise. He gasps. Maybe out loud. At least Even pauses, for half a second, then keeps walking shaking his head but accompanied by a gentle, friendly sound, like a soft chuckle. Isak knows he should be embarrassed, but he’s not. He doesn’t see the need.

The phone’s screen illuminates Even’s face briefly as he checks the time. Isak knew that not blinking as long as Even was in his field of vision was a good call. He might have missed this sight otherwise, but now he saw it, and it was divine. It was over so quickly, but Isak remembers every little detail perfectly.

Even disappears behind the bathroom’s door with his phone. Isak rolls over on Even’s side of the bed, his face buried in Even’s pillow. It smells lovely. The covers still have Even’s body heat trapped under them, and Isak bathes in it with pleasure. Without shame. It’s wonderful.

“What time was it?” Isak asks when Even returns from the bathroom. He’s pretty sure it’s morning, but how far along is it?

“Almost nine”, Even says. He stops to yawn and stretch, and Isak’s attention is drawn on his crotch area. Even is semi hard. He’s had nearly nine hours of sleep, but is that enough? Isak makes way for Even to come back in the bed, but stays close.

“Do you want to sleep some more?”

Even is still holding his phone. He checks the screen again. Now Isak catches a glimpse of the pretty, pretty blue.

“I don’t know. Usually at this stage I sleep almost all the time. It’s hard to say how much sleep I actually need.”

Even is speaking slowly, tasting every word carefully before letting it out of his mouth. Isak catches each and every one. He doesn’t know what to do with them, but he wants to catch them anyway. Even has trusted Isak with those words, and Isak will take care of them.

“Can we cuddle?” Isak asks. Even rolls on his back and raises his arm, so Isak could curl up under it, and Isak wants to, he really wants to, but. There is something in the air, something unspoken, and Isak has been not speaking about enough of his own desires to know what it is. He wraps his arms around Even and pulls him against his chest, resting his chin in Even’s hair.

He feels Even relax against his body. Isak wraps his leg around Even’s legs as well. He’s draping his body all over Even, to envelope him, to protect him. He decides to forget about the semi that made his mouth water. He just holds Even. Even has lost some weight, his long limbs are thinner, his joints are sharper, his shoulder blades almost stick out. Even feels like an intricate work of origami in Isak’s embrace, like paper folded and unfolded over and over again, so delicate and so resilient.


	68. Even

Their food runs out on the same day their lube does. The fourth day. It’s a Saturday, and the weather is surprisingly pleasant for this time of year, and it’s time. They haven’t stepped outside in four days. All they have been doing is lie in the bed, occasionally get up to eat or bathe or use the bathroom, only to return to bed as soon as possible. Even has been sleeping less than he had anticipated, and every moment he’s spent asleep he has spent on Isak’s arms.

Even is standing by the window, looking outside. It’s a nice day. The sun is peeking through the clouds every now and then. The first signs of an upcoming spring. Isak comes out of the bathroom and walks to him, he wraps his arms around Even and leans against his back. Neither of them have bothered with wearing more clothes than their underwear in the last couple of days.

“Hey babe”, Even says. He can feel the effect of that word in Isak’s body, the rush of joy it delivers.

“Hey”, Isak whispers, nuzzling against the back of Even’s neck. “Come to bed?”

Even chuckles. He bumps his ass against Isak’s hips, gently.

“We’re out of lube. And food.”

“Are you sure we’re out of lube? Can’t you cut the tube open?”

“I already did. It’s gone. It was less than half a tube when we started, anyway.”

Isak groans. He slides his hand down along Even’s stomach, to the rubber band of his underwear.

“We can do other stuff, that doesn’t need lube.”

Even chuckles again. Oh, Isak. Insatiable. Something has happened, Even has noticed it, Isak has been set free by his fiscal imprisonment. Even is no stranger to spending several days in a row having lots and lots of sex, but this time he’s doing with just one person, and it. It makes a difference.

“We also need to eat.”

Isak grins against Even’s shoulder and slips his hand under the waistband.

“I could put something in my mouth alright.”

This time Even laughs properly. He turns around, facing Isak, and strokes his cheek.

“If you want to keep enjoying my body, you must take care of it as well.”

A shadow passes Isak’s face. Briefly. Even leans in to kiss the final shreds of it away. It’s not needed here. Isak takes Even’s wrist, stroking at the back of his palm with his thumb.

“I hope you have been enjoying, as well.”

“I have”, Even hurries to say. “I have been having a great time with you. It’s so. Easy?”

Isak nods, relieved. He looks younger than he ever has looked, his eyes are so bright and his face so open.

“Yes”, Isak smiles more than he speaks. “So easy.”

They kiss. Because it’s so easy and effortless. Isak tastes like light, and he feels like warmth, and Even is really, really compelled to fulfil his request and just take him to bed again. But there is something he needs to know. He can’t simply dive into this with all his soul, he needs to know it will hold.

“I want to go out with you. Let’s go eat somewhere.”

Isak looks at him, surprised. A bit frightened.

“I can’t. I don’t have that kind of money.”

“I do. Well. For McDonald’s. But that counts.”

Isak blushes. He remembers.

“Come on. You kind of owe me some proper fries.”

Isak raises his eyebrows.

“My kitchen provides proper fries.”

“Sure, sure. But you obviously haven’t tasted the real thing, and it’s time you do.”

Isak pouts. He strokes at Even’s thigh with his.

“Are you sure there isn’t something else for me to taste?”

Even sticks his tongue out.

“Maybe for dessert. How does that sound?”

“Absolutely delicious.”

“I should hope so. Now, get dressed. We’re going out.”

Fifteen minutes later Even wraps a scarf gently around Isak’s neck. He had an extra one in his bag, and it is cold despite the sunshine. Isak is squirming a bit.

“It itches.”

“Nonsense”, Even says. He digs Isak’s lips out form under the scarf and kisses them. “Better?”

Isak pouts.

“Maybe.”

This is so easy. Soon he will know.

“It’s also to protect you. Your identity.”

Isak nods, suddenly serious. He understands that Even is right. He could use every bit of discretion he can get. Even takes his hand and gives it a little squeeze.

“Ready?”

Isak nods.

“Let’s go. I’m actually quite hungry myself.”

They walk outside, hand in hand. The air is so fresh, after spending days on end inside that tiny apartment. The sun is shining on their faces, making them squint. They are still holding hands, Even notices, and sort of hopes Isak won’t. During these days he has been getting used to the idea of them, and somehow not having that anymore would feel like a loss.

Even checks his phone again for direction. He looked up the nearest McDonald’s before they got dressed, and it’s close enough for them to walk there, if they only know which way to walk.

“This way, right?” Even asks. He shows the phone to Isak, and just as he does so, a message from Mikael pops up on the screen.

_ I really miss you. _

Isak’s shoulders tense up. He pulls his hand away from Even’s hand and points down the street.

“Yeah, I think it’s that way.”

Even wants to explain. He has this sudden, odd urge to explain to Isak that Mikael isn’t anybody, not right now, and if Even’s honest with himself he never was anybody, not to Even. Not for real. Then Isak takes his hand again and starts walking, pulling Even with him.

“You were right”, Isak says, looking around him. “This is way overdue. We needed the fresh air.”

Even just nods and hums. His mind is racing. He’s trying to make sense of this. Is Isak jealous? Did he notice the message at all? He did, he must have, but why isn’t he reacting to it? Or is he? Is this the reaction?

Why does it matter?

When they enter the McDonald’s Isak nudges Even’s at shoulder with his head.

“Can we pick our own table?”

“Yeah, sure”, Even laughs at Isak’s joke. He is feeling a bit lighter again. The smell of grease and salt is also making him hungry. He lets go of Isak’s hand to pull his hood down and unwind his scarf, and he makes it all the way to the counter until he notices Isak is not with him. He turns around and sees Isak sitting at a table, folding his coat carefully on the spare seat next to him.

“Uh, Isak?” Even walks to the table, puzzled. “What are you doing?”

Isak looks up at him, blushing.

“I thought you said we can pick our own table?”

Even frowns. He sits down, opposite to Isak, and takes his hands into his. Just to make sure Isak won’t run away.

“I thought you were joking. This is a McDonald’s, Isak. Fast food. No table service, no front of house staff, nothing like that. We go to the counter, order our food and carry it to the table ourselves.”

Isak’s blush deepens. Even is happy with his decision to grab Isak’s hands.

“So this is like the pizza place? Not a real restaurant?”

“Uhh. Sure. Just like the pizza place.” Even has no idea what place Isak is talking about, but it doesn’t matter. “Look. How about you tell me what you’d like to eat and I’ll go get our food? You can stay here. Nobody at the counter can see you through these plants anyway. It’s okay.”

Isak is biting his lip. At least he nods, and Even nods too.

“Okay. Good. Now, what would you like to eat?”

“I’ll have whatever you’re having”, Isak mumbles. Even takes his phone out and fiddles with it for a bit before handing it over to Isak.

“Here. That’s the menu. I think I could go for a double cheeseburger with large fries and a coke, but you can choose whatever appeals to you.”

Isak looks at the menu. Even waits for him, patiently. He’s in no hurry, and examining the selection seems to be calming Isak’s nerves. That’s good.

“I would like small fries, a chicken burger and a passion fruit smoothie”, Isak says. “Is that okay? Can we afford that?”

“This is McDonald’s, babe. I can afford anything on that menu.”

Isak nods, pushing the phone over the table back to Even.

“I’ll have those. Thank you.”

“Do you want a drink?”

“The smoothie will be enough, I think.”

“It’s just that if you do want one, it’s more expensive to buy separately.”

“Fine”, Isak sighs, “I’ll have a coke too.”

“So, a chicken burger meal and a passion fruit smoothie. I’ll be right back”, Even says, taking his phone with him so he has something to do while waiting for their food. There isn’t a line now, and he gets to order and pay quickly. He opens the message from Mik just to get it over with. There, it shows the message as seen, go on about your day now, Mikael. Go blow a professor if you have to, but fucking pass your classes.

Even returns to the table with a tray loaded full of food. He places it between them and sits down.

“Dig in”, Even says. Isak moves his lips silently. His hands are crossed in his lap. He’s. Praying? Even doesn’t say anything, Isak has been embarrassed enough, he just unwraps his burger and bites down. Mmh. It’s delicious. So, so good.

Isak unwraps his burger too and raises it to his face. He stops, frowning, and stares at his food.

“Something wrong?” Even asks. “You wanted a chicken burger, right?”

“Yeah, I did”, Isak says slowly. “I don’t think this is. Is this right?”

“Let me see.” Even takes the burger from Isak and checks it. It looks perfectly normal. “Yeah?”

“It doesn’t look like chicken.”

Even laughs.

“This is McDonald’s, not a farmer’s market. It’s chicken. It’s fine. Eat up before it gets cold.”

Isak makes a face a child would make when asked to eat asparagus. Even giggles at it, he can’t help himself. Isak opens his mouth and takes a tiny, tentative bite. The Face returns.

“This is almost as bad as the microwave food you brought”, Isak says. Even laughs.

“This is fucking gourmet.” Even takes a big bite of his burger, munching at it happily. So tasty. Isak isn’t as enthusiastic, but he needs to eat, and they paid money for this, so he takes another bite of his burger.

“I’m sorry, I can’t --” Isak puts the burger down, takes the lid off and looks around. He walks to the condiment station and takes a coffee stirrer with him. Then he peels the breading off his chicken, to Even’s great delight. This is the funniest shit he has seen in a long while.

“Better?” Even asks when Isak tastes his stripped down burger. Isak shakes his head.

“Barely.”

“Good thing I ordered normal fries instead of a small, then”, Even says. Isak dips a fry in ketchup and tastes it. His expression makes Even crack up again. He’s almost in tears, his stomach is cramping up, he doesn’t know what is so funny about Isak not finding McDonald’s, the food of the gods, tasty, but it is hilarious. Isak glares at him, sucking on the straw of his smoothie.

“At least this is tasty”, he mutters.

“I’ll go get you another smoothie when you’re done with that one”, Even says when he can finally breathe again. Isak shakes his head.

“No. I don’t like this food, but it is eatable, and I will eat it.” Isak takes another bite of his burger, chews on it reluctantly and swallows. He washes it down with coke. Even pulls a particularly long fry out of the box and grins.

“I know how to sell these to you”, he says and grabs the very tip of the fry with his teeth. He leans over the table, towards a very confused Isak, and waits for it to click in Isak’s brain. When it does, Isak blushes and looks around them. Come on, there’s nobody watching.

“Stop”, Isak whispers, but Even just shakes his head. He’s not going to give in. Come on, Isak, you know you want to. Finally Isak sighs, leans in and takes a bite of the fry. Even waits until he’s eaten it all and their salty lips meet in a short little kiss.

“You’re insane”, Isak states, rolling his eyes. Even snickers.

“Yep, a certified madman. But that fry tasted better, didn’t it?”

Isak tries to hide his smile, but he really can’t.


	69. Isak

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> suggested listening: Damien Rice - Delicate

After their dinner Isak isn’t satisfied, but he is fed, and that’s enough. At least Even seems happy about what he got, and how it tasted, and by the time they exit the supermarket with a bag full of food and lube he has finally stopped laughing at Isak. Though Isak didn’t mind him laughing. He has obviously spent long times in a row without laughing like that, deep from his belly, with all his heart. Besides, he squints so adorably when he’s laughing.

The sun has been hidden by a thick shroud of clouds. Isak is walking down the street with his hand in Even’s hand, his face behind a scarf that smells like Even, and he knows all of this is pretend. Even must like him, at least somewhat, because he doesn’t have to be here and yet he is, he chooses to, but they are not -- they are not alike.

What if Even hasn’t forgotten about that?

It’s not only possible, but likely, that Even is after Isak’s fortune. Isak doesn’t want to believe it, and he has evidence against it, but he would still be foolish to ignore the possibility. People change. Things change. He should know, he should have learned that much with Jonas.

It’s already getting kind of darker when they get back home. The closer they get the deeper in his thoughts Isak sinks into. He can’t wait to get back behind the door that closes the world outside, but he also should talk about something with Even. He knows Even is bipolar, but not brain dead. Even is capable of making decisions. Choices. And Isak is near painfully interested in certain choices Even has made rather recently.

There is a choice he has to make himself, as well. Should he - could he? - take this inside with them? Will it ruin their thing? It’s such a good thing, and it would be a terrible pity to lose it, and today’s trip has given him hope that it might survive a serious conversation, but still -- he doesn’t know. He can’t know, not before he tries.

Does he dare try?

Isak slows down when they get to his street. He needs more time to think. Or, well. He’s kidding himself. He’s not thinking at all, he’s simply rotating the same thought round and round in his head, giving it a tiny poke every now and then. Of course, Even notices he’s stalling. He slows down as well, and eventually they stop.

“Please don’t tell me you forgot to take the keys”, Even says. Isak shakes his head and his pocket, so Even can hear the clinging. He’s got the keys.

“I’m not. I just.” Isak licks his lips quickly. A hair from the scarf gets caught on his tongue. Isak is grateful for the break that fishing it out gives him, but wastes it by still not thinking at all. Maybe  _ he _ is brain dead.

“You just what?” There is worry in Even’s voice. Isak wishes so much he could somehow hear what Even is worried about, too.

“I want to ask you about Mikael, and I can’t decide should I wait until we get inside or not.”

“No”, Even says, immediately, his lips snap tightly together like a clam.

“No what?” Isak asks. His fingertips feel numb. It could be the cold wind.

“I’m not interested in talking about Mikael with you. Please don’t ask me to.”

It’s Isak’s turn to turn his lips into a pale line. Even isn’t being reasonable. After all, he knows about Jonas. He knows so much, because he read a letter that wasn’t for him. A private letter.

“Why are you avoiding him?”

“I said no”, Even repeats. “Let’s go inside, this wind is brutal.”

That’s so much to ask for. Even is asking Isak to take this fight inside with them. If this is a fight. This is something prickly and sharp, and it could tear the magic to shreds. Then again, Isak has only himself to blame for this.

“He texted you that he misses you. Do you miss him?”

Even steps back. It feels like someone just ripped out a piece of Isak’s flesh.

“Look, I know you must be unfamiliar with the concept of people telling you  _ no _ but that’s no excuse for you to just fucking ignore it.”

For some reason, Isak is offended.

“I have been told ‘no’ my entire fucking life! With anything that matters!”

They don’t say anything for a bit. The wind is blowing through the gap between them. It’s making Isak feel cold.

“Look, can we just go inside?”

It takes a second for Even to consider. It’s a long, terrifying second that stretches out into multiple forevers, during which Isak dies a thousand deaths, convinced that Even would say no, again.

“I’m not interested in talking about Mikael inside, either.”

Isak can feel ragged pieces of dry skin on his bottom lip against his tongue. He pulls them out with his teeth. One of them rips some healthy skin with it. It stings. This is emotional blackmail. Isak just isn’t sure which one of them is guilty of it. It’s a delicate balance, probably.

“Okay”, Isak finally says. He’s the one with more to lose here. He should be the one who gives in. Even looks at him from under his brow, suspicious, but thank God, he nods. He follows Isak inside. Isak closes the apartment door behind them and stops to listen to the air around him. It’s the same as it was when they left. It’s stuffy, and it reeks of sex.

“We should probably open a window”, Isak says. Even just shrugs. At least he’s peeling off his winter clothes. Isak does the same, and then walks to the window and opens it. They can’t keep it open for long, it’s getting cold, but every little bit helps.

The bed creaks. Isak can see Even’s reflection on the window, lying on the bed. The bags are untouched on the floor. Isak puts all the food in the fridge or the cupboard, and places the three tubes of lubricant on the table. They might have gone a bit overboard. They have stocked up so they wouldn’t have to leave the apartment in days on end, and that’s both a welcome and an unnerving thought.

Isak closes the window. He walks to the bed and sits down on the edge.

“I still don’t want to talk about this”, Even says. “But to give you some context, Mikael is my Jonas.”

A lump blocks Isak’s throat. He forces it down.

“I see”, he whispers. The lump took his voice with it.

“We grew up together. He lived on the third floor, I lived on the fourth. Our mothers used to joke that if one of us was a girl we’d get married some day.” Even pauses. He sighs. “Fuck, Mikael is probably one of the reasons I noticed I’m into guys in general. I could have married him, some day. We never talked about it, but I think a part of Mikael believed I would.”

Isak just nods. He isn’t sure if Even sees it or not, because he’s not looking at Even right now. He’s looking out through the window, where the sun’s last rays penetrate the clouds after all, painting the sky in peach and pink.


	70. Even

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: dissociation, panic attack

Even rolls on his back. He’s still talking. He’s telling Isak about Mikael, and him, and the things they have done together. He just keeps talking, unable to stop, he’s hearing his own near monotone voice describe everything, the tragic story of two poor boys who tried to make it in the big bad world. The first time they kissed, the first time they examined each other’s bodies with frightened, inexperienced hands, the times they spent the night wrapped in their passion only to return to their own beds to wait for morning. About the love that manifested itself only between sheets, and how much more Even wanted but Mikael never gave him.

He tries to stop talking so many times.

He can’t stop talking. Isak has to stop him. He has to say something, or do, he has to stop staring out the window. Otherwise Even will keep talking until he has told Isak about Mikael breaking his heart, how he ran off with the money he stole from Even and is now pretending to care about him, probably to milk more money from him, and he doesn’t want to. He adds details into his story, of how Mikael’s skin tastes like, how his pretty frame moves when he rides Even’s dick, and that’s when Isak stands up.

“Stop”, Isak whispers. Even stops, mid word, he stops and pulls a pillow in his lap, curls up to hug it tightly.

“I’m sorry”, he says. Isak wraps his arms around himself, stepping closer to the cool glass of the window.

“Just. Tell me one thing”, Isak says. He sounds small. Even wants to protect him, from the cold, from the world. From himself. “Is he the reason you won’t love me?”

“No. I mean -- no.” Even curls up tighter around the pillow. His chest feels so hollow and empty, maybe he could cram this pillow in there to stop his structure from collapsing. “No.”

“Does he love you?”

“No.” Even sighs. This is so fucking painful, and it wouldn’t have to be, he doesn’t have to be in here having this conversation, and still he is here. Still he keeps talking. “Maybe. In his way.”

“Do you love him?”

“Maybe. In my way.” Even hears the words drop off his lips like coins on a stone floor. Cold. Hard. Cheap. He looks down at them, scattered at his feet, and he can’t feel his body at all. “Isak, I’m so sorry.”

Even hears a sniffle, and how it's annoyedly suffocated. He isn’t sure which one them it was.

“Isak, please. You must understand that I’m sorry.”

How black can his heart be? How full of corrosive slime, oozing through his pores, from his fingers, into whatever he touches. The sheets he’s lying in are full of his fingerprints. Isak’s skin is stained with them, too, all over.

“Isak?”

Isak presses his fingertips against the window. He doesn’t really sigh, just breathes out, thoroughly.

“I still love Jonas. In my way.”

Isak sounds so devastated. Even never expected that to feel like this. His chest is protected by the pillow, but Isak’s voice carves two long slices right next to Even’s spine, reaches inside and wraps around his heart. Squeezing on it so hard it can’t beat properly.

He can’t breathe properly.

He is going to die, right here on this bed, and that’s when he understands what is happening.

“Help”, Even gasps. Isak is beside him instantly, in less than a bothersome heartbeat.

“Even? What is it? Are you okay?”

Isak tries to take Even’s hand, but Even pulls it away. No. No touching now, he’s infectious.

“My pills. My pills.”

Isak disappears, and returns almost immediately, Even’s pill bag in one hand and a phone in the other.

“Should I call an ambulance?”

Oh fuck. Even can see the blue lights flashing on the walls, hears the wail of the sirens, all those people swarming around him and leaving with cusses under their breath, Even has never been so ashamed in his life. He shakes his head, vigorously, while he looks for the right box. He finds it, and presses the pill out of the sheet. A piece of the foil sticks to it. He doesn’t care, he pushes the bitter pill on his tongue and swallows it.

Isak tries to touch him again. His fingers are burning. Even squirms away from under them.

“Soon”, he wheezes, still trying to breathe. Soon he will need Isak, and his presence, and his touch, but not yet. He needs to calm down first. He needs to stop dying this actively. It will pass. He will not die here, he hasn’t died before.

It’s either the pill or Even’s body running out of steam, but the hold of his panic sets him free after about ten minutes. He is breathing slower now, his heart isn’t struggling anymore, he looks up at Isak and just nods. It’s the sign Isak has been waiting for. He cradles Even immediately, pulling Even tightly against his chest, and this time it’s definitely Even who is sniffling.

“I’m so fucking sorry”, he whimpers, clinging to Isak. It’s so wrong. He has no right to. Isak has trusted his heart in this, in him, and how has he repaid it? With lies. Empty, meaningless lies he had absolutely no reason to tell.

“It’s okay”, Isak whispers. He strokes at Even’s back gently. “I know how it is. He’s complicated. You’re complicated.”

Even has to scream just a little bit. He cries out loud, ugly cries, his face wet with tears and snot and probably even saliva. He’s making Isak’s pillow wet, and his shirt is getting soaked as well. Stains. Filth.

Isak kisses his hair gently. He keeps holding Even until he’s too exhausted to cry anymore, either. He collapses, and Isak catches him, and that’s not right. Even is too tired to decline it. He is breathing heavier again, but slowly, and he’s in control of it. He runs his options in his head. He can stay. Or he can leave. And that’s about it.

He draws a deep breath.

“I’m not really that complicated”, he says. He wipes his face on the already wet pillow. “I tried to stop. I really did. I understand if you don’t believe me.”

“Hey, it’s okay. I think you had a panic attack?”

Even shakes his head. Isak doesn’t get it. How could he?

“I lied to you.”

Isak tenses up just a bit. Then he breathes out slowly and relaxes.

“No, you didn’t. You never told me you loved me or anything.”

Even closes his eyes to think for a moment. Isak is. He’s settling. With him. With  _ him _ of all people, and that’s not right. It’s not fair or decent.

“I lied about Mikael.”

Isak tenses up again. And relaxes, slower this time. His fingers are playing with Even’s hair.

“I know. It’s okay that you love him. I don’t have any claims over you.”

Wait, what? Isak thinks that was the lie? Well. Now that Even thinks about it, it makes sense. He sees an opening again, and if he hadn’t taken that pill he would escape through it.

“No. I don’t love him. Not like that. Not anymore.”

Even can feel Isak’s emotions in his body so clearly. The confusion. The acceptance to find out. The will to take the chance.

“What is it, then?”

It’s okay. He has money for a hotel, for a couple of nights, until he figures out where he can go. It’s okay.

“Almost every word, really. We have kissed. Once. We never spoke about it again. We’ve never been anything real, and he never left me. I left him. To come here.”

Isak’s body feels numb. His fingers have stopped moving. Even closes his eyes.

“I’m sorry. Do you still love me?”

Why does it matter? It shouldn’t. But it does. Even wants Isak to love him. Someone has to love him.

“I do”, Isak sighs. He lies down on the bed, throws the destroyed pillow on the floor and presses his forehead on Even’s forehead. It feels a bit cool.

“I’m a wicked bitch”, Even says, in one last, half-hearted attempt to push Isak away. To make him see. Because it’s the right thing to do.

“It seems that I have a type”, Isak chuckles, darkly. The tip of his nose rubs on Even’s nose. “I love you.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”


	71. Isak

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a bit short, and super difficult to write. I hope it will do.

What the fuck did just happen?

No, seriously.

What. The fuck. Did just happen?

Isak has no idea. He has barely any recollection of what Even told him about Mikael, because he stopped listening pretty soon after Even started talking about Mikael’s skin and body, he kind of left his body and this room and was watching the terrible moment happen to someone else entirely. And now it was all a lie, anyway? What?

What the fuck?

Okay. Let’s think about what we do know.

Even is here.

Isak loves him.

Even is sick.

That was so, so scary. How Even first seemed like he would die, and then crumbled away like that. Isak barely remembers anything about that, either, except the mind numbing fear of losing Even. He was so scared that Even was going to die, right there in Isak’s arms.

Sure, Isak is upset about Even lying to him like that. But he can’t dismiss the terror he felt when he thought he might lose Even. Besides, Even confessed immediately. As soon as he got his control back, he confessed. Isak has read about something like this, how a person can lose themselves in stressful situations. He just experienced something similar himself.

Isak shouldn’t have pushed the Mikael thing.

He really shouldn’t have. He was just. Well. He was jealous. Seeing that message made him understand that it is possible Even is missing Mikael too, and. He needed to know. He had to ask, and because he is an idiot, he had to ask now and not, say, a week later, when he could have had at least a week of something resembling happiness.

What’s done is done.

“Would you like to tell me more about Mikael? The truth, this time?”

Even’s eyes are deep, dark pools of cold water. At least they’re looking directly at Isak.

“I don’t think I can ever be truthful about him”, Even says slowly. “I mean. I lie. I don’t know why I do it, I just say things and then I can’t unsay them.”

Isak nods slowly. Okay. Talking about Mikael is off the table. For now.

“Do you lie about other things too? Or just him?”

Even sighs. He rolls over on his back and covers his eyes with his palm. Isak doesn’t let go, his arm is still wrapped around Even’s body. He can feel Even’s chest rise and sink.

“I do.”

“Just for me or someone else, as well?”

“Everyone. Sometimes I lie to myself. I’m really good at it, too.”

Isak keeps holding Even. He could really, really use a hug himself right now, but unlike people like to think, Isak Valtersen has learned to live without things, too. He has.

“Fuck. I lied about you too. I told Mikael that you pimped me at the party.”

Isak almost flinches when Even mentions the party. It was cruel. They were cruel, and they liked it. They did say horrible things to Even, they made him crawl on his hands and knees and do tricks like a trained animal, but Isak is absolutely certain nobody touched Even that way. Nobody.

“Why do you lie?”

Even groans. He’s not happy to be talking about this. Isak isn’t either, he’s not happy to be talking at all. He would much rather be kissing Even, touching his lovely skin, making love to him.

“Why do you ask? I might just as well lie to you when I answer.”

Even throws that around so carelessly. He might just as well lie to Isak. That’s certainly not something you wish to hear from your lover. Is Even his lover? Are they lovers, or is this just Jonas all over again, this time simply with someone who wants what Isak has to give in return? Isak doesn’t know. He has to ask.

“If you ever tell me you love me. How can I know you’re not lying? How can I tell?”

Even pulls his hand away and opens his eyes. He’s looking up at the ceiling, with a wry, joyless smile on his lips.

“Heh.”

Isak waits. His heart is pounding in his ears, still full of hope, because it is foolish.

“I suppose you can tell I’m lying if I ever say I love you.”

Even slips his fingers between Isak’s. His hand feels warm. Or maybe it’s Isak’s hand that has grown cold, as his blood has frozen in his veins.

“You see”, Even continues, his voice quiet and almost kind. “I don’t know how to love anyone. I don’t suppose I can love anyone. You sure as hell don’t treat someone you love the way I have treated Mikael, or anyone else in my life, ever, so. I guess I just am not able to love. Not for real.”

Isak listens quietly. He has nothing to say. He has nothing at all. Except Even’s hand. Even’s warm fingers between his. That  _ feels _ like something, but is it?

“And. I’m sorry.”

He is sorry. That’s. That’s also pretty much nothing. Sorry can be the hardest word, but also the emptiest one. An apology with no plans of changing is worthless. Isak closes his eyes and buries his face on Even’s shoulder, swallowing once again a question he has been avoiding for the past four days.

Why is Even here?

It doesn’t matter why. He is here. He lets Isak touch him. He lets Isak love him.

“Thank you for telling me this”, Isak says.

“I suppose it’s pretty stupid to let someone know you lie all the time.”

Even is quiet for a moment, in a very loud way. Isak can feel it in the air around them, like an aura. He waits. Sometimes you have to give the other one time to form their thought into words, and to convince themselves to speak those words.

“When you told me you love Jonas, you meant it, didn’t you? You weren’t just humouring me.”

Isak swallows. He could lie, too. It seems to be easy enough.

“I did. He was my first love. We can never be together the way I wanted us to -- God, I don’t think we can ever be together at all. But I will love him for the rest of my life. In a way.”

“I can’t imagine loving someone enough to trust them with something like that. That’s when I knew that -- that I can never love. When you trusted me enough to tell me you still love him.”

Even’s chest is trembling. Isak raises his head and looks at him. He looks so fragile. Like he’s standing on an edge and could fall at any second, like he did just moments ago.

“Breathe”, Isak pleads. “Please. Deep breaths. It’s okay, I’m right here.”

Bit by bit Even stops shaking. Isak keeps looking at him, at his shattered eyes.

“I have asked God so many times to take love away from my heart”, Isak confesses. Even is listening carefully. His eyes, glistening with tears, are sharp and aware, and they actually  _ see _ Isak. “There was a time, not long ago, when I was certain He had finally answered my prayers.”

A little smile interrupts Isak. It’s just a tiny one, and brief, if Even blinked he missed it.

“I should have remembered that He works in mysterious ways.”


	72. Even

Even doesn’t understand Isak. He thought he does. He thought Isak is just a rich prick, full of himself and his fortune, but the more time he spends with the man, the more secrets he uncovers. It’s almost addictive.

What’s definitely addictive is Isak loving him. Sure, Even still isn’t convinced that Isak  _ actually _ loves him, that he knows what love is either, but whatever it is that fills the room when Isak looks at him, it feels good. Even doesn’t want to be without it. He doesn’t want to leave. Especially back home, where Mikael waits for him, with the family size can of worms and a can opener.

No. Even prefers it here. This apartment is terrible, but he doesn’t care. He really doesn’t care where he is. As long as there is a bed, he’s good. This place has a bed, which Even hasn’t left all night. Isak brought him his pills when he was panicking, so he didn’t have to get up to take his evening meds either. He didn’t want to take them, but Isak was insisting, and Even was too tired and ashamed to keep arguing. He passed out in about ten minutes, as expected, and now it’s about three o’clock in the morning and he’s wide awake.

Isak is waking up, too. Even knows it’s not his fault, because he is completely still and quiet, barely breathing, listening to Isak move and sigh more and more frequently. He doesn’t know how long Isak has been sleeping in addition to this hour he has been watching him, but it’s probably not enough. Even would have to try and put him to sleep again.

“Hey?” Isak whispers, barely audible. Even hums.

“I’m awake.”

Isak crawls up against him, snuggling under his arm. His skin smells sleepy and feels warm. Even wraps his leg around him too.

“You should sleep”, Even whispers. Isak groans, rubbing his cheek on Even’s chest.

“I’m not sleepy anymore.”

“Mm. Me neither.”

They are quiet for a moment. Nesting in the heat of their bodies, in the comfort of the darkness. Something occurs to Even, and he chuckles a bit.

“What is it?”

“I just realized that you and I have always been drunk when we’ve been together. Before this.”

Isak is quiet for a bit. His palm pressed against Even’s chest, his fingers moving slowly. It feels nice.

“I suppose we have.”

“Hell, I’ve been drunk or high most of the time lately, with or without you. But you did have the best stuff.”

To Even’s surprise, Isak laughs.

“Oh, you should have been here Monday night. The vodka I found in here was  _ vile. _ It tasted like gasoline.”

“Not all of us can afford top shelf shit”, Even says, before he can stop himself. Isak knows that. He knows.

“Can we not talk about money right now?” Isak asks. Even agrees. It’s a sensitive subject, especially in here. The world outside this apartment is too big, and Isak owns too much of it. They should focus on something smaller. The little things.

“Turn the light on, please”, Even says softly. Isak makes a hum that sounds like a question, but he doesn’t argue. He rolls over so he can reach the table lamp and turns it on. The soft, mellow light feels bright at first, then Even’s eyes get used to it. It makes Isak’s skin look like silk. Even pulls the blanket away to reveal more of it.

“You look like art”, Even murmurs, running his finger along Isak’s ribs. The shadows the lamplight draws on Isak’s body are beautiful to look at. Fleeting, as well. Every time Isak shifts they change shape. That’s part of their beauty, how short lived they are.

“I don’t know how to respond to that”, Isak says. At least he’s smiling while he says it. Even returns the smile. He strokes at the inside of Isak’s arm, and then he feels it. It’s barely there, it’s old and thin, Even can’t really see it in this light but he can feel it. Isak has stopped breathing, so it’s obvious he can feel it as well.

It’s not big. Even could have easily missed it. But he didn’t, and it’s there, and he can run his fingertips along the scar on Isak’s inner arm. It could be from surgery, or an accident, but Isak’s silence has turned so heavy it can only be made of shame.

“How did this happen?” Even asks quietly. Isak closes his eyes.

“There was a boy.”

“Did Jonas hurt you?” Even’s shoulders tense up. He will kick that bastard’s ass the moment he sees him, for Isak and for himself.

“Oh God, no. No. I hadn’t met Jonas back then. I was just a kid.” Isak blushes slightly. His eyes are still closed, but he’s breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth, slow and deep, focused on staying calm. “I spent some time on this summer camp. A Jesus camp, they’d call it now, I suppose. Kristian was almost seventeen and the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.”

A Jesus camp. That makes Even feel a bit queasy. He keeps stroking at the scar, like he could erase it with something so simple like a touch.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about him after the camp. I didn’t know it back then, what it was, but I did know it was wicked.” Isak’s fingers join Even’s, stroking at the barely there scar. “This was just a misguided child’s pathetic attempt to stop thinking. I chickened out way before I could cut deep enough, but the blade was a bit dull so it left a scar.”

Even takes Isak’s hand and brings his arm up. He gives the scar a soft little kiss. It’s incredible, how completely and easily Isak trusts him.

“I wish my scar had a poignant story like that”, Even sighs. Then he almost chuckles. “Well, I could make one up, right?”

“Can I see it?” Isak asks. Even plucks at the edge of the bandage for a bit. It’s getting a bit ragged. He could probably take it off anyway, he just hasn’t really wanted to. Two birds with one stone?

“Okay. Wait.” Even crawls out of the bed and gets his notebook and pencil case. He sits down on the bed, his legs crossed, and places the items on his lap. Isak sits up as well and takes his hand. Even lets him. He just sits and watches as Isak unravels the bandage. The scar is small, but prominent. It looks like someone has stabbed the flesh repeatedly. It kind of looks like a star. A dying one. Isak strokes at it with his thumb, barely touching, like careful to not hurt Even.

“What happened?”

Even unzips his pencil case with his free hand. He takes out the nib he used. He opens his notebook on the page coloured with his blood, and puts the nib on it. He doesn’t say anything. It’s hard to lie when you don’t speak.

Isak’s eyes grow wider. His lips are cracked. He touches at the page, just a little brush, and pulls his hand back quickly.

“Even --”

“I don’t know”, Even answers before Isak can ask. “It felt like a good idea at the time. This is what made me realize how far gone I was. When I saw what I had done.”

Isak looks at the notebook. He almost touches it again.

“Can you draw on this? With ink or something?”

Even frowns. That’s a weird question.

“I guess?”

Isak nods, barely. Then he licks his lips and nods again, to confirm to himself that he’s made up his mind.

“Could you draw me something? On this page. I understand if you don’t want to, this must be so personal for you -- that’s why I’m asking.” Isak closes his eyes, shaking his head. “God, I’m not all there myself, am I?”

Even bites on his bottom lip. He’s trying to wrap his mind around this. Isak wants him to draw on the page covered with his own blood. That’s just. Weird. Kind of. The thought doesn’t feel so weird, or at all impossible.

He is a sucker for symbolism, after all.

“Can I draw you? Will you pose for me?”

Isak nods. Even picks up the nib and finds the handle and a small bottle of ink. He gives the bottle a little shake. It’s not dried up, good.

“How do you want me?” Isak asks. The question makes him blush a bit. Adorable.

“Just lie down and get comfortable”, Even says. Isak does. Even puts the notebook on his knee, screws the nib in the handle and the bottle’s cap open, dips the pen in the ink and lets it flow on the blood soaked paper, in the shape of soft shadows.


	73. Isak

Isak must say Even is really talented. The stains and lines of ink form not a figure, but the idea of a figure, that gets completed not on paper but inside Isak’s mind. It’s very raw. It’s very erotic. Primal. Isak can feel it in his body. It might be because his body is naked and next to Even’s naked body in this bed, and because the image is drawn over blood, but still. It’s carnal. It’s almost a pity to destroy it.

“It’s beautiful”, Isak says. Even shrugs his left shoulder, humming softly.

“You’re beautiful. I just tried to document it.”

“It’s. I don’t know. Weird?” Isak blushes a bit, hiding his face in his pillow for a moment. “I mean, I’m not used to thinking of myself as something so. Sexual?”

Even chuckles. He draws a line under Isak’s ribs with his fingertip.

“We’ve been having sex for four days straight.”

“Wait, so that wasn’t gay sex? I must have been mistaken.”

Even stares at him in disbelief. Isak almost hides behind the pillow again.

“What?”

“You just made a joke about you being gay.”

Isak frowns. That’s. True. And he didn’t even think about it, he just did it. It’s almost worrying him. How far off the path he has wandered. Isak Valtersen can’t behave the way he has been behaving. He has to remember that.

“I have something to ask of you”, Isak says quietly. He’s not looking at Even. He’s looking at the picture Even drew. His image. “Could this place -- this apartment, I mean. Could it also be a Fort of Secrets?”

Even is silent for a moment. He strokes at the picture with his fingertips. The ink is dry now, it doesn’t smudge. Every line stays where Even set it.

“Is that something you think you need? After everything that has happened since?”

Isak pulls his pillow against his chest and hugs it. He keeps looking at the picture of his body, a male body, that’s painfully obviously turning him on. He is getting dangerously okay with that.

“I can’t stay like this forever”, Isak sighs. He can’t emerge from this cocoon and spread his rainbow wings. He will have to suit up, buckle up and man up. This has been fun, so much fun, but life is more than having fun.

Even closes the notebook. He puts his supplies away in the pencil case and takes it and the notebook with him as he gets out of the bed. Isak doesn’t dare look. He closes his eyes as he hears Even pack his notebook and pencil case and his medication in the gym bag. He can’t ask if Even is leaving, because he is too busy being devastated by the idea. At the same time, he can’t blame Even for wanting to get the hell away from him.

He hears a click he knows he knows, but doesn’t remember what it is. Then he feels Even come back on the bed.

“Turn on your back”, Even says. “Please.”

Isak rolls over slowly. He looks up at Even, who is on his knees beside him, and he looks so tall. His body just keeps going on forever, and when it ends, there’s still that angelic face. As Even holds out his left palm and squirts  _ a lot _ of lubricant on it Isak recognises the click. It was the lube’s cap.

“What are you doing?” Isak asks. He keeps still, on his back, surrendering to Even. Whatever it is Even needs a handful of lube for, Isak is submitting to it.

“I can’t use ink, and I don’t have enough of it, either. I don’t have any paint. This will have to do.” Even moves on the bed, throwing his leg over Isak’s legs, straddling Isak’s thighs. Isak is breathing slower. Focused. Even looks so good.

“I don’t quite follow”, Isak has to admit. Even gives him a tiny little smile.

“You said you can’t stay like this forever. I think it’s only fair that you will first see what ‘like this’ means. What it looks like. I drew you, but my canvas was too small to fit everything in.” Even runs his fingers along Isak’s barely there abs. “I need something bigger to truly express myself.”

Isak just nods. Whatever it is that will keep Even sitting here, touching Isak like this, he is willing to accept it. Even nods as well, dips the tips of his index and middle finger in the lube and draws a line over Isak’s left collarbone. The slick wetness makes Isak feel his skin differently. It makes him actually notice it’s there. Even keeps drawing on him, his eyes narrowed a bit by being so focused, his lips ever so slightly cracked, the tiniest wrinkle between his brows, and his every touch feels like a feather and like a flame.

He’s on fire, but the fire doesn’t consume him. It feeds him. Nourishes him. He is breathing heavier now, faster, Even’s slippery fingers tickle his heaving ribs and draw them one by one. Isak has never really paid any particular attention to his own body, apart from pleasuring himself in what he considers quite normal amounts, but now he is focusing on it fully. How it’s built. How Even breathes life into it with his touches.

Lines. Shadows. A shape that’s not actually put on paper but takes form in Isak’s mind. And it’s beautiful, and it’s arousing, and the erection that’s throbbing between Isak’s legs doesn’t feel commanding or desperate or embarrassing or shameful, it simply feels natural. It belongs to him. It’s awakened by Even’s touches and beauty, and Isak can, to his own surprise, allow it. He forgives it, and in that forgiveness he also senses an absolution.

This is okay.

This is hot, this is nice, this is very, very sexy, but above all that, this is okay. It’s okay that Isak wants Even. Another man. In this wonderful, magical and sadly mortal moment Isak is completely fine with that. He doesn’t know if Even is aroused or not, he hasn’t looked. But he can hope, and he does.

Even keeps drawing. Lower and lower, he makes a circle around Isak’s belly button and keeps going further down. Hip bones. His lowest possible abdomen. Isak can’t take it anymore, he squirms a bit. He makes a little hungry sound. Even arches his brow at it.

“Oh?”

Isak closes his eyes and nods. Even touches that spot again, and Isak gasps.

“Yes.”

“Right here?” Even keeps stroking at it, and Isak can’t stop squirming. He makes that sound again.

“Yes.”

Isak wants to wrap his legs and arms around Even and pull him into a passionate kiss. He can’t. Even is straddling his thighs. He’s trapped, willingly. He’s on fire. The lines of lube are drying out, pulling on his skin a bit. He’s still so aware of his body. How Even is touching it. He’s using his both hands now, his both palms slide slippery along Isak’s sides. Isak sighs softly. He raises his hips.

“Feels good?”

“Y--yes.”

“Awesome.” Even run his hands over Isak’s shoulder and down his arms. Their fingers interlace briefly, then Even’s hands take off again. Up the arms, down the sides, over the hips, back up once more but this time over Isak’s stomach and chest. He spent so much time drawing all the lines, and now he’s smudging them, moulding them like a piece of clay. It feels like an act of creation. Even is erasing and rebuilding.

Bit by bit the circles Even is drawing shrink smaller and smaller. Isak’s arousal is the centre of those circles, and as Even’s hands approach it Isak is shivering and whining under his breath. The anticipation is delicious. It’s making his mouth water, and his heart sing. This is more. Isak is certain of it, this is more than just sex. This is a connection. A bonding. At the same time he’s starving for release and wanting this to never end.

Even reaches the middle. He wraps his fingers around Isak’s dick, making Isak moan. Everything about this, about Isak himself, feels so good. Isak opens his eyes and looks at Even. Even is watching him, focused on him completely, his lips move when Isak moans, he sighs when Isak gasps, and when Isak comes he looks deeply satisfied. Not simply pleased with himself or proud of his performance, but satisfied. Isak almost can’t believe that simply touching him could satisfy Even, but just almost. He believes it. He believes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh! With this chapter I have now written over 1.1 *million* words of SKAM fics. Okay, one Druck-fic is in there as well, but my unposted Big Bang wip covers those words. Couldn't have done it without you people, so thank you!


	74. Even

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man, this chapter was a struggle! I rewrote huge parts of it three times and it's still not what I wanted it to be, but now I've learned that it never will. So, here.

Even has no idea how long he has been in here. He has lost count of days, and nights. Time, or the passing of it, both doesn’t feel relevant and scares Even, so he doesn’t think about it all that much. His whole life, all the bullshit and struggle and difficulties, are on hold while he is in here.

Isak looks different now. It’s like a switch, that Even has been flicking a couple of times before, has finally been turned. Isak has been very, very interested in Even’s body before the night Even introduced Isak’s own body to him, but after that there has been this. Liberty. The struggle is gone. Isak hasn’t let whatever it was inside him stop him in a while, but now he doesn’t have to get over anything. He can simply do. Touch. Kiss.

Love.

Does Isak love him? Even doesn’t know. It doesn’t make sense for him to. He is Isak Valtersen, worth seventeen billion kroner, and Even is an uneducated, unbalanced rentboy. This is not a movie. Men like Isak don’t fall in love with men like Even. It’s simply not done. It’s not like Even is particularly lovable anyway. He’s sick. A liar. Broke. Immoral. Not exactly boyfriend material.

Isak’s cheek rubs on Even’s chest. He is waking up. Ever since that switch was turned Isak has been sleeping, too. Even is happy about that. First of all, Isak is less grumpy when he’s had a good night’s sleep, and second, Even likes watching Isak sleep. Now that delight is over, for now. Isak opens his eyes.

“Hey”, Even hums. Isak mumbles something and yawns. He still has the cutest yawns.

“What do you want for lunch?”

Isak groans. He still doesn’t like the microwave meals. Even isn’t exactly a fan either, but to him they’re normal food. He’s used to them.

“A salad, with a thick slice of grilled goat’s cheese. Freshly baked bread with a proper crust and a chewy middle. Fresh berries and Greek yogurt. Figs, walnuts and honey.”

Even hums. Sounds good, all of that. He slides his hand down Isak’s back, to the curve above his butt. He strokes at the smooth skin with his thumb.

“We have pasta carbonara and pasta with mushrooms.”

Isak shivers.

“They’re both terrible.”

“It’s not that bad.”

“Yes it is.”

Even sighs.

“We have to eat. That’s what we have. Now pick one.”

Isak curls up tighter against Even. It’s not an invitation. It’s not an attempt to get closer. Isak is folding into himself like a little hedgehog. Even stops stroking his back, but keeps holding him close.

“What is it?”

Isak’s fingertips press on Even’s chest.

“It’s not fair.”

“Having to pick between two bad meals?”

“Well. I mean. Yes. Kind of.”

“Hey. Don’t worry. I’m not sure how many days we have left, but they are running out, aren’t they?”

“Four days.”

Even nods. Okay. Four days. That’s not much. Even isn’t exactly looking forward to getting back into his own life. The thought of it tires him. Many things do, and he knows why. The medication is working, and the rush is running out. The low is inevitable. There have already been signs of it. He doesn’t want to leave the bed at all anymore.

“I’m pretty sure you can handle four days of bad food. Or, you could tell Jonas to go fuck himself and return home.”

Isak sighs. Heavily. He isn’t saying it out loud, but they both know it. When Isak returns home, Even will have to return to his. Either that, or live in the streets. Even is not looking forward to that, not at all. Mikael has kept sending him messages, and he has kept marking them as seen without really reading them.

He could never tell Mikael where he has been. Mikael wouldn’t believe him. He would never believe that Isak Valtersen has spent two weeks in a shithole like this, let alone with Even. Mik probably thinks Even has been out drinking and partying and fucking anything that has a shadow, and in a way he would be right to think so, because that could have happened easily, and that’s almost the same as it happening.

“-- with me?”

Even blinks. Isak said something. He asked a question, but what was it? He looks at Isak, his brow arched.

“Sorry?”

Isak is biting his lip. He looks like he’s struggling. When the struggle is over, Even can’t tell for sure if Isak won or lost.

“I asked which shitty pasta would you like.”

“Oh. I don’t care. They both taste the same, really.”

“Oh, I know.” Isak reaches up to stroke at Even’s cheek, and gives him a little kiss. Then he gets out of the bed and goes to put a box of pasta in the microwave oven. While it’s warming up Isak goes into the bathroom.

Even looks around the room. It’s so small. It feels much smaller when Isak isn’t in it. A paradox. If you fill a space with something, how can it become less crowded? How can the air two people are breathing instead of one feel lighter?

The microwave oven makes a ding. Isak’s pasta is done. Even can hear Isak groan from the bathroom, over the running water he’s washing his hands with. Isak pushes the door open with his foot, wiping his hands dry with a towel. He’s standing tall, and he looks almost defiant.

“I lied”, Isak says. Even frowns. And nods. Okay? Isak hangs the towel on the hook and comes to the bed. “I didn’t ask you about pasta.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. I mean, no. I mean -- I asked something else. I asked you if you would come with me. Back to my penthouse. My real life.”

His real life. The life of Isak Valtersen, the multi-billionaire. Fresh berries instead of shitty pasta. And he’s asking Even to join him.

“I --”

“I will have them clear the bar first, of course”, Isak interrupts. “I prefer being sober with you. And you being sober with me.”

Even doesn’t know what to say. He can’t be sure, but he has a hunch that if they were back in the penthouse other things would be like they were, as well. In here, there is a chance of them being sort of equal. In there? No way. Even can never live up to Isak Valtersen and his luxurious life.

“If I don’t want to come, will you go anyway and kick me out?”

Isak sits down on the edge of the bed, like he can’t trust his legs anymore.

“I would never kick you out.”

He wouldn’t kick Even out. But he didn’t say he would not go. This is it. Isak is finally understanding, that Even is right. Love is bullshit. Money is everything. Why doesn’t winning feel better?

“Thank you. I suppose.”

“You’re right. It’s only four days. I shouldn’t give up now.”

Even looks at Isak. He sits up slowly, so they can face each other on the same level.

“I won’t be coming with you in four days, either, Isak. You are Isak Valtersen, and I’m just a rentboy. That’s not how it works.”

“Even -- Even --” Isak doesn’t seem to get any other word out of his mouth than Even’s name. He just keeps saying it, over and over again.

“Just go. I’ll make sure this place is cleaned up before I leave. It’s not like I’ll be much fun for you anyway, I am getting tired. I’m sure you have noticed I’ve been sleeping more in the past couple of days? That will get worse. I can do that in my own bed, alone, there’s really no point for you to be stuck here with me as well.”

The more Even speaks, the more clearly he can feel it. He is tired. Now that he has stopped to look at the reality, it overwhelms him completely. This has been fun, but now that he knows it’s going to be over soon it’s not feeling all that fun anymore. Better quit while you’re ahead, right?

“Even --”

“I think.” Even pauses, licking his lips slowly. He knows this has to be done, and he knows he will not have more strength to do it later, but less. Much less. “I think my work with you is done.”


	75. Isak

The foul stench of stodgy, sodium laden pasta fills the room. It crawls into Isak’s lungs and stuffs them up. He can’t think in this smell. He can’t think in front of Even, who is telling him that this is ending.

“No”, Isak says, quietly. “Please.”

Even pulls a blanket over himself. He hides under it completely, an act of a child who is misbehaving, or ashamed, or scared. Isak looks at him, in silence, how the lump of fabric rises and descends with Even’s slow, heavy breathing.

Isak stands up. He goes to the microwave and opens the door. He takes the tub of pasta out, sticks a fork in it and cuts the noodles in smaller pieces. He gives it a stir. It’s horrible. A near homogeneous mass. Carbs, fat and salt.

“Here. Eat.” Isak sets the food on the bed in front of Even, who is still hiding under the blanket. He peeks out. Isak can catch a glimpse of a tuft of hair. He reaches his hand out, to touch it, but pulls it back and grabs the fork instead. He catches some pasta on it and holds it up. “Open your mouth.”

The tuft grows bigger. There is a crack in Even’s shield, and he is peeking through. Isak grabs the edge of the blanket and pulls it aside, gently. This is a game now. Isak has lost count of how many games they have played together. It works. Games work. Isak can see Even’s face now, and he can see the deep, soul eating sadness.

Even opens his mouth. Isak feeds him a forkful of terrible pasta. Even munches on it for a bit, then swallows and makes a face.

“Yuck.”

Isak laughs out loud. Oh, God. Even is incredible. Thank you, Lord, for making him.

“It’s what we have.” Isak offers Even another forkful, and Even takes it. Such a good boy. Isak feeds him the whole box, and when it’s done Even makes a little burp. Isak puts the empty container and the fork down on the floor and pulls his legs up on the bed.

“You didn’t eat”, Even says. Isak shrugs.

“I’m not hungry.”

Even chuckles.

“That’s a lie.”

“Well, I have lost my appetite. My lover leaving me does that to me, it seems.”

They are quiet for a moment. Listening to the echo of those words. Even has left Isak. That’s how it feels like.

“I never was your lover, Isak.”

“Don’t say that!” Isak stands up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “You let me love you. You care for me, you must -- I’m not that big of an idiot, am I? I’m not imagining it all.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about”, Even says. His voice is completely level. It sounds almost white. Like paper. “I’m here only for profit.”

“What profit! Look around you! I have nothing to give to you, nothing!” Isak turns around and kicks at the pasta box. It hits the wall and leaves a greasy stain.

“I needed a place to live. I’m not picky.”

Isak covers his mouth with his hand. He takes a couple of deep breaths. He takes a couple of wobbly steps back. He doesn’t understand. He knows Even is lying, but he doesn’t understand  _ why. _

“No. I love you.”

“So fucking what!” Even raises his voice. He sits up and slams on the bed with his fist. “You love me. What difference does it make?”

Isak steps back again. He turns away, and the his eyes catch the mug by the window. He didn’t know where else to put the blade, so he just stuck it there and forgot about it when Magnus came.

“This”, Isak says, and takes the mug in his hand. He pours the blade on his palm and shows it to Even. “This is the difference me loving you makes.”

Even looks at the blade. Then he looks at Isak. There is a frightened flash in his eyes, and Isak absolutely despises himself for causing that. He hurries to put the blade on the bed, and steps back.

“What the fuck, Isak?”

Isak bites his lip.

“I love you. I love you and I love you and I love you, and that means I don’t have to touch that thing ever again. You can have it back.”

Even picks the blade up, careful to not cut his fingers. He’s frowning.

“I’m sorry, what?”

Isak has said too much. But it doesn’t matter. It won’t make a difference, Even will still be leaving him and that’s it.

“I got it from Mikael. He was worried about you, and brought me that as proof of you being in danger. It had blood on it. Was it yours?”

“What?”

“God! It’s a simple enough question, isn’t it? Did you or did you not cut yourself?”

Even reaches out his hand.

“Please give me the mug.”

Isak does. Even drops the blade in it and puts it on the floor.

“Short answer? No.”

Isak’s legs are shaking. They are barely holding him up.

“I have time. Four days, to be exact.”

“I’m not accountable for you just because you love me.”

“Even, please! What can I do? Just tell me what to do and I will do it.” Isak means it. He would do anything, if Even only asked. Why won’t Even ask?

“I don’t think there’s anything you can do.”

Isak drops on his knees on the floor. He buries his face in his hands. Maybe Even is right. Maybe there is nothing to be done about this. He has his own life, and Even has his, and they are from different worlds.

A sniffle makes Isak’s whole body shudder. Another one follows immediately after, and a third one, and he is just shaking now, with every heaving breath. He can’t hear Even move over the sound of his crying, but he can feel Even’s fingers touch his shoulder and slide over, behind his back. Even pulls him against his chest, and Isak can’t fight it. He needs it too much.

“I can see it”, Even whispers into Isak’s hair. “I really can. I’m sorry.”

“Whu -- what?” Isak sobs. Even’s fingertips stroke at the back of his neck.

“The difference I have made. I’m so sorry I have to go away, but I can’t -- I just can’t. We can’t. We have known it from the start.”

Isak is still sobbing. He wraps his arms around Even and clings to him.

“I love you”, he says, like him keeping saying it would change something.

“It’s okay”, Even whispers. “I’m sorry.”

When Isak finally calms down they are in the bed again, locked in an embrace. Even feels so good close to him. But he is right. Isak knew what he was getting into, and he knew it has a due date. There really is nothing he can do about it.

“How does Pretty Woman end?” Isak asks quietly. Even almost laughs, in his surprised shock.

“You don’t know?”

Isak shakes his head. He has no idea.

“I’ve never seen it. I don’t really watch movies.”

“You bought the entire theatre to watch a movie.”

Isak shakes his head again.

“It was just a publicity stunt. A favour, you might say. I don’t even remember which movie it was, I was reading my emails the whole time.”

“What? Really? I can’t fucking believe it.”

Isak shrugs. It happened. It worked.

“I am a powerful man.”

Even smiles, just the tiniest bit.

“You don’t seem too powerful right now.”

Isak almost smiles back. He’s out of smiles at the moment. Out of emotion in general. Drained.

“I’m not. I’m in love.”

Even gives him a little kiss. It’s a waste of precious time, but Isak doesn’t have the strength to turn it into anything else.

“So, Pretty Woman. The great romantic comedy of a love story between a wealthy businessman and a prostitute.”

“Are you sure that’s not a tragedy?”

“I’m sure. A tragedy starts well and ends badly. A comedy starts badly and ends well.”

As Even starts reciting the plot of Pretty Woman Isak doesn’t really listen. His mind is busy thinking about how very, very badly his love story with a certain prostitute has started.


	76. Even

This is for the best.

There is a certain natural order of things, and to meddle with it will bring only heartbreak. Even knows this. Isak knows this. They didn’t need to discuss it further in the four days they had left, nor when they were over. They talked about other things. Even told Isak about movies and art, Isak told Even about robotics and medicine and ethics. Most of the time they just wanted to hear the other one’s voice, while resting against their body.

Now Even won’t hear that voice anymore. They did exchange numbers, but Isak Valtersen doesn’t seem like the type to chat over the phone, and Even is more of a read-the-message-and-ignore-it kind of a guy himself. He knows they won’t talk again, and that is for the best.

The cab pulls over in front of their house. Even looks at the front door, then up the wall to the kitchen window. He hasn’t told Mikael or Eskild that he is coming home. He has no idea if he has a home anymore. He likes to think that Mik would have told him if they had rented Even’s room away, but he can’t be certain. Or maybe Mik did tell him, in one of the messages Even didn’t read and deleted.

There is still some money left in his account. It should be enough to keep him going for a couple of nights, especially if he gets back into being a professional party boy, dwelling bars and clubs and following people home. He’s scared to go down that road, but he also knows he doesn’t have many options. He can’t be picky.

“Here”, the cab driver says and takes an envelope from the glove compartment, handing it over to Even. “This is for you.”

Even takes the envelope, confused. He can feel the contents through the paper. It’s money. Quite a bit of it. He should turn it down, but is he really in the position to do so?

“It’s his money, isn’t it?”

“I was instructed to make sure you take it.”

“Look”, Even sighs, “Magnus, isn’t it? I don’t want his money.”

“He was rather persistent.”

Even smiles. Barely. It’s just a little twitch at the corner of his mouth.

“Yeah. That’s him alright.”

Even shoves the envelope in his breast pocket. Fine. He’ll hold on to it for now, just in case Mik and Eskild have kicked him out.

“How much for the ride?” Even asks, knowing he doesn’t need to. And he is right, Magnus just waves his hand.

“It’s already been taken care of. Once I drop you off I’ll return for him and collect my fee after taking him home.”

“Of course.” Even rubs at the back of his neck. He should get out of this cab now. He’s home. Maybe. Time to go. He lowers his hand on the door handle. He glances at the rear view mirror, and sees Magnus is watching him. “Make sure he gets home safe, okay?”

“I will.” Magnus licks his lips quickly, then decides to ask after all. “Did something happen? Between you two, I mean.”

“Thanks for the ride. Goodbye.” Even has to escape the car before he bursts out either laughing or in tears. He’s happy he took his bag with him to the back seat, he can just dash out the door and into the building. It smells so familiar in here. Just like home.

Even drags himself up the stairs. The bag is much heavier now than when he left, even though it’s at least twelve condoms and half a tube of lube poorer. Maybe Even himself has simply grown weaker.

At least his key still fits in the lock. He opens the door, slowly, and listens. He can’t hear anything. Can he be so lucky? Even steps inside and closes the door. He doesn’t take his shoes or jacket off. He walks to his room as quietly as he can. He peeks inside. It looks just like he left it.

Even kicks the shoes off his feet and drops his jacket with the bag on the floor. He collapses on his bed and curls up in a fetal position, his arms covering his head, his knees against his chest. He stays there for a bit, just breathing. Getting used to being in this room again, returning in his life, his miserable, stupid life where he has nothing.

No. He has something. He has an envelope stuffed with money, and he has Eskild and Mikael, and he has his medication, and a list of books to read. Even is certain Isak will not make good of his end of the deal and watch the movies on the list Even gave him, and he most certainly will not be interested in talking about them with Even afterwards, but. If he keeps his word and sends the books to Even, Even will read them.

It was one of their last conversations. Even wrote down a list of must-see movies for Isak, who looked at it rather confused and told Even it’s a list of books. So, they made the deal, a pact you could say, in a last, desperate attempt to stretch their bond over the limitations of the real world.

It won’t hold. Even knows it. Isak knows it. The sooner they stop pretending, the better. Even unfolds himself slowly, like rediscovering his limbs again, and lowers his feet on the floor. He knows how to walk. It just takes him a moment to remember. When he does, he goes to get his phone and the money from his jacket.

First he blocks Isak’s number.

Second, he texts Mikael. Short and sweet, just like the boy himself.

_ I’m home. Leave me alone for two days. _

Then he turns his phone off and shoves it inside his pillow, with the envelope. He lays his head on the pillow and closes his eyes. He can finally give into his fatigue. He doesn’t have to hold himself together anymore, not for Isak, not for anyone. He doesn’t have to be brave.

He probably wouldn’t have had to be brave for Isak, either. But if he had let Isak see this, see  _ him _ as he truly is, Isak would have. He would have. Even doesn’t know what he would have, but it would have been something unbearable. It’s better this way. Isak saw glimpses, but not the whole sad picture.

Even rolls over on his back and strokes at the deformed star shaped scar on his inner arm with his thumb. He can feel the shape, it’s kind of bumpy. It will be there for the rest of his life. Which, by the look of things, may not be all that long. He’s not intending to end his life, but at this rate? It could end any moment. He’s living dangerously, and he knows it.

He gets up again, with a groan. He needs his notebook and a pen. He doesn’t want to turn his phone back on, so he will have to make a note the old fashioned way. He drags the bag by the bed and lies down on his belly to dig through it. He can’t seem to find his notebook. It’s probably in the bottom somewhere, tangled up with his clothes, which he didn’t bother folding or anything. He takes the pencil case and unzips it.

Even writes on his palm with a black marker. Palm is a good place for it, it has skin that renews quickly. Even won’t spend more than a couple of days with STD CLINIC written on his skin. He traces the letters with his fingertip, tasting them in his mouth. Shame. Trash. Disaster. Corrupted. L..ost? Idiot.

Even’s spelling bee gets interrupted by the front door. It opens and closes. Someone takes off their shoes. From the lack of humming Even suspects it’s not Eskild. It must be Mikael. He hears footsteps come closer, to his door, and stop. Please, Mik. Not now. Keep walking.

He imagines Mik standing behind his door, his hand on the door handle. He almost tells Mikael to go away. But he doesn’t. He just waits. He needs to give Mikael a chance to do as Even asked of him. As he hears Mikael walk away and go to his own room, Even relaxes with a long, draining exhale.


End file.
